


A Character of Coffee and Coffee Houses

by yukitan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukitan/pseuds/yukitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**ON HIATUS AGAIN until Dec 2015 again i'm very sorry I'm about to do something pretty life changing academically**</p><p>"I'm James, by the way."</p><p>"It's nice. James." Q smiled from behind his cup, blaming the hot coffee for the rushing heat in his cheeks. "Nice enough. You can call me Q."</p><p>Having retired from active service early following the death of his wife, James Bond is the proud owner of a little coffee shop, Skyfall Lodge, and Q is his eclectic customer. Naturally, he hopes to keep his little coffee scented haven and its patrons far away from the gunpowder riddled world of terrorists and MI6, but with a friend like Alec Trevelyan... hopes will have to remain hopes for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffea

"It's horrible, my favorite barista left to stare at stars in Sweden. _Sweden_."

"I was _filling in_ for friend, darling."

" _Sweden_."

"Sweden is lovely. By the way."

"You are a cruel, cruel woman, Eve. Now where were we?”

"Describe your surroundings, Q."

"Why isn't there a road sign? This is London. All places have road signs."

"Soddit, Q. Adds to the mystery. Do you see the white washed building yet?"

"Yes. Somebody's painted a lovely portrait of David Cameron on the corner."

"You're on the right track. Turn left and left again."

"To get to a bloody cafe, Eve?"

"It's a good cafe. Not as good as mine, of course, but I've worked with the owner before."

"Better be bloody _fantastic_ for all the trouble this is worth."

"Are you there yet, Q?"

"I certainly hope it lives up to appearances." Q said as he looked up at the dark brick building, the entrance almost hidden completely by dozens of green plants. An intricate black railing ran around the topmost storey, outlining a small balcony and a dark tiled roof. Red bricks covered the facade, arching over narrow glass windows that promised a quiet, warm atmosphere on the ground and first floors, though the building in its entirety was admittedly in need of a thorough wash.

He almost missed the white decal on the glass window.

'Skyfall Lodge' it read in a combination of a sans serif and a cursive font; a smaller, narrow 'coffee house' nestled in the gap between between Skyfall and lodge.

"Looks promising enough."

"Give my regards to James." His friend laughed and ended the call, leaving Q to enter the café alone.

 

~

James looked up from drying glasses to see a scrawny, bespectacled boy push open his door and walk into the shop.

"Hello." the boy walked to the front of the counter and gave a small smile. A thin, forest green parka covered a patterned sweater and a light blue plaid cover up, well worn blue jeans loosely tucked under his sweater, leaving the tails of his shirt just barely visible.

A small part of him cringed internally. He wasn’t aware that it was physically possible to knit that many patterns into a single piece of fabric.

"Take your time." James smiled, discreetly surveying the young man's features. High cheekbones, a round nose and round, deep set eyes behind thick, black framed glasses, thin lips, all hidden by the shadow casted by an impressive head of curls the color of undiluted chocolate.

"Hmm." the young man's mouth quirked in a sort of half smile in greeting as he focused his attention on the black chalkboard behind James. "I don't know... Uhm. What's good?"

"Everything's good." A small measure of pride slipped into James composure as he straightened his back and rubbed a calloused finger on the handle of a well polished espresso machine. "How about I guess? I'm rather good at reading people. If it's not what you want, it's on the house."

"And what if it is?"

"Consider it a welcome present then. First time customers only."

"It's your loss." the young man returned his smile brightly as pressurised steam screamed and spilled on billowy white clouds from the top of the machine.

"Eve sends her regards."

"You know Eve?"

"She recommended me to this place, actually. Made the best beverages ever known to man."

"Oh, does she?" he asked over the sound of whirring steam and liquid. “I wasn’t aware she’d downgraded to beverage construction.”

"I wish.”

"Oh I think I can make up for it." James winked as he carefully pressed down the lever of the gleaming wood and glass machine.

"Fully manual? I approve."

James poured the frothed milk into a mismatched mug, pulled from a shelf, and placed a small coaster underneath it, sliding the beverage over the counter to Q. "Here."

"MLooking good so far." he smiled, picking up the cup and making his way to an armchair close to the wall and in the counter's direct line of sight.

"I'm James, by the way."

"It's nice. James." Q smiled from behind his cup, blaming the hot coffee for the rushing heat in his cheeks. "Nice enough. You can call me Q."

 

~

Q found himself going back constantly to Skyfall Lodge more times than he cared to admit. Every other Sunday and almost every Thursday afternoon, he found himself in the cafe, a slightly different combination of coffee and milk (and occasionally chocolate) waiting for him. The cafe was never very crowded; there was always a table or two vacant, either on the first or the ground floor. The topmost was probably where James lived, given the lack of an entrance from the first, he couldn't help but feel an ounce of curiosity towards broad, blond man's seemingly nonexistent personal life.

"What are you always doing on your laptop?" James asked on one occasion, as Q sat and drank while James arranged his pastry display.

"Would you like to see?" he asked, quickly saving his work and opening his web browser. A thin, bony hand pushed his dark rimmed glasses up and over his brow, holding his curly fringe back and away from his face like a make shift hair band. "I'm a blogger."

"Isn't this…A very select audience?"

"You'll be surprised," Q smirked, "I bet I have more hits on a single blog post than the total of customers you get in a week, considering the traffic you get around here."

"That's harsh."

Lips tipped to one side, nose slightly wrinkled, Q flashed James a devilish smile that looked more like an impression of a small deer. The combination on an attractive face, previously obstructed by long, untamed curls and thick glasses, was enough to make James want to sit him down and feed him strawberries and cream all day. Masking the fantastic image that materialized himself in his mind with a cough, he ducked his head back down under the counter with the pretext of arranging plates.

"What do you blog about?" he said, the words muffled, accompanied by the melodic clinking of polished ceramic against ceramic. “Sorry.”

"A bit of everything, I suppose. Mostly software and computers, that stuff. I can blog about Skyfall Lodge? Bring some traffic into the area? I think my readers will appreciate good coffee and an, uhm, attractive barista. You just have to upgrade your WiFi by a significantly greater bandwidth, and you're good to go."

"No, I'm alright with this." James said, turning Q's computer back towards him. "I like it like this. If it's too crowded, I won't have time to chat with equally attractive caffeine driven university students, would I?"

"I never told you I was a uni student." Q peered at James curiously, green eyes boring into the older man. "Did I?"

"It's rather obvious, isn't it? Is the blog where the Q thing comes from?"

"I suppose. Also because my name's a bit of a mouthful." Q replied, letting a little swell of jealousy that came with the thought of introducing more people to the quiet little coffee shop tucked in its obscure little corner wash over the tiny knot of suspicion that had formed, and turned his attention to the cake case instead. Running an elegant finger across the glass, he paused above a small placard and pressed his palm on the warm glass.

"Are those scones fresh?"

"Out of the oven half an hour ago. Hands off the glass please."

"I want that one please." lifting his hand off the glass, Q placed his elbow against the counter instead, resting his head on his knuckles. "With orange jam."

"So, what course?"

"Post graduate research at ICL. Finished my masters in computer science last year."

"That's... Wow. Really impressive." James looked at Q in surprise, sliding a white plate with the golden brown scone and a generous dollop of yellow cream and orange compote across the counter. "Computing?"

"Department of computing, yes."

"That's interesting...?"

"It's alright I guess. What about you? You don't seem like the type to go into culinary arts, of all things."

"I was a commander in the royal navy."

"And you open a coffee house?"

"An excellent coffee house. With excellent coffee."

"An excellent one indeed." a toothy grin plastered itself to Q's face as he lent over the counter to pat James blond hair. "You're just a great big blond bear, aren't you?"

 

~

James' coffee shop was a combination of mismatched, random furniture and dark floorboards, the space lit by a combination of strategically placed mirrors and long, narrow windows that spilled soft yellow light in splintered rectangles across the worn armchairs and treated wood. Fading,dusty paintings decorated bits of the walls; dark wood panels ran up the sides, stopping halfway where a thin, pink and yellow painted border eased the transition between the wood and the creamy white wall. Furnishings ranged from a dark brown dining table with little lion's claws for legs and cushioned chairs to match, to a low lying, light pine coffee table Q recognized to be from the front cover of an IKEA catalogue.

"Why the decor?"

"What about the decor?"

"It doesn't seem like your type. Too atmospheric. Sentimental."

"I'm not? I'm offended."

"You're a coffee machine, that's what you are."

"I have been called a ladies' man on more than one occasion. For good reason too, might I add."

"A seductive coffee machine, then." Q took a sip from his mug, he'd taken to bringing his own, a creamy white, cylindrical thing with Q in the scrabble font, gifted to him my an avid reader as a reference to his screen name. "You're the only employee here, as far as I can tell. Who's the interior decorator, hmm?"

"She's not around anymore."

Piercing blue eyes briefly clouded over as James said softly, replacing it with a polite smile as he directed his attention to a mother and her six year old pressed excitedly up the cookie jars instead.

Suddenly, the coffee didn't taste nearly as good as it did before, too hot and bitter on Q's tongue.

 

~

Generally, their conversations were short, sweet, interjected by the soothing whir of the espresso machine and spiced by the smells of vanilla and roasted beans.

"You don't have any other employees? Why not?"

"Too troublesome. Employees mean salaries. Salaries mean accounts. Accounts mean paperwork."

"I can make you a spreadsheet for that. Just scan in your receipts. Hell, I can even upgrade your register to one that registers everything automatically.”

"Q, I don't own a computer."

The scandalised look the dark haired boy gave James made him laugh, a loud, deep guffaw that felt as woody and warm as their surroundings.

"You're not serious? You do realize we're in the 21st century, right? Not the 20th? Why do you even have WiFi if you don't have a computer?"

"I just do whatever the operator says or children like you will pester me nonstop about their lack of access to the great internet." he laughed, sliding a serrated knife skilfully across a frosted red velvet cake. "I just think that sometimes the old ways are the best."

"Nothing 'old' about WiFi. Wifi's important."

"I've managed well enough."

 

~

Every other Thursday afternoon, he stayed until it was time for James to close shop. He didn't have morning classes on Friday, so he could afford the luxury of returning to his tiny pigeon loft late.

James didn't stop him either, only shooing him when it was half past ten and all his baked goods for the following day were out of the oven. When the cafe closed at 9, the two continued to work in silence, Q tapping away at keys and drafting software reviews, while James lay out trays upon trays of dough and pastries for the following day.

It was on one such night that Q looked up, startled, to the sound of a ringing bell.

He sank into the sofa seat, taking advantage of the shadows the lighting in the room cast to make himself invisible as he gently slid his laptop onto the table. With the clock barely ticking to 10pm and it being a Thursday evening, nobody was expected or supposed to be at the cafe.

A tall, broad figure entered the door and made his way purposefully to the counter.

_Oh shit._

Q took his phone from the counter as stealthily as he could as the figure's back turned away from his line of sight. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit_.

"Who's there?" the figure jerked up, green eyes boring straight into Q's.

_Fuck me._

Q yelped and tried to run for the door, the wind knocked out from his lungs as he was brought crashing to the ground painfully by a heavy, muscular body.

Strong hands, through clammy and cold with sweat, wrapped around Q's neck and jaw, a muffled whimper slipping from between his lips as the fingers around his throat constricted around his windpipe.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?"

A sharp twist around his collar found Q turned over with his back to the floor instead, a piercing pain shooting through his neck in protest to the rough manhandling. Gasping for breath, defensive instincts kicking in as oxygen rushed back to his brain, Q locked his arms on his assaulter's shoulders, loosening the grip on his jaw and just barely managed to slide his lower limbs through the gap under the assaulter's body. Bracing his shoulder against the floor, he swung his foot up blindly, wincing as something solid met the kick and the pressure on his jaw instantly lifted.

"James! Help!" Disoriented, Q yelled and fumbled blindly for his glasses on the floor, hands closing around a thin, familiar frame. Quickly pulling himself into a sitting position, he pushed his glasses back onto his face and found himself staring into the barrel of a military issue revolver.

"Oh buggering fuck." just his luck to land the robber with a working gun, he thought as he put his hands up in surrender.

"I repeat, who the fuck are you?" the man said, face contorted in an angry sneer. Fresh wet blood was smeared in an angry pink streak from his nose across his cheek, adding to the murderous aura surrounding him. "Who sent you?"

"Oi!"

James appeared at the staircase, holding a heavy looking silver box. "Put that away, I know him."

"Say so earlier." the man didn't move, gaze never moving from Q's hands. "I was under the impression your place was closed at this time."

"It is." James said, putting a hand over the man's revolver and guiding it to a holster tucked under the man's jacket.

"Breathe a word of this and I _will_ find you." the man said, words directed towards Q, predatory gaze locked onto Q's terrified eyes. "Vamoose!"

Q's wordless stare shifted to James, a brief moment of confusion escaping his face in the form of a slight wrinkling of eyebrows.

"Sorry."

Ignoring the carefully composed, blank expression that James was delicately maintaining, Q scrambled to his feet, grabbed his bag and left swiftly through the door.


	2. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of cafe fun time with Alec and James, while Q's attention is conveniently usurped by life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exam week is over so hopefully I'll be able to finish chapters regularly. Plot picks up after here but I think I'm just using this story as an excuse to write as much cafe fun time as possible.
> 
> Beta read and brit-picked by the lovely zoeteniets

If any thing else, he was hurt, angry and confused, and therefore frustrated because he didn't quite understand the events of the previous night.

"What the fuck, James." he'd half ran up the length of the road before slowing to a walk and turned back. The cafe was completely dark, save for lights on the top floor.

_Sentiment is weak._

Bending down, he carefully arranged his papers and computer properly in his bag where he'd randomly tossed them in his hurry to escape the coffee shop. A shiver ran up his spine and he brought his hands close to his body to pull his coat closer, only to find the soft texture of cashmere instead of the waxy fabric of his mackintosh under his hands.

"Ahh fuck it." Q murmured, hoisting his bag up to make his way to the nearest bus stop.

~

"What the hell, Alec?" James said, "Pulling a gun on a civilian, seriously?"

"Sorry, can't be too careful," he  said, shrugging his jacket off with a wince and sitting heavily on the closest chair. “Ow, fuck. Stitches split, scrawny bastard caught me by surprise."

"It was a well deserved blow, I have half a mind to throw you out and let you bleed to death on the streets. Upstairs."

"You love me, really." he replied with mock fondness.

"It's a feeling I'm growing to regret. Did you take any painkillers?"

 "Missed me didn't you- fuck- ow!"

"If you've scared him off, I'll shoot you myself." James said bitterly, gruffly pulling his bleeding, delirious friend up the stairs.

* * *

**Friday**

Light. Yellow. Sun. Sunlight. Important.

"Shit!"

Nearly falling out of bed in panic, Q just barely caught himself, hand clawing desperately at the sheets as he fumbled for his glasses in the other.

"Time time time-" finally, he found the familiar plastic frame rested atop the flat box that was his alarm clock.

5am.

"Well," Running his hands through his curls, he winced as his fingers found and pulled at knots and tangles. He rubbed at his eyes, reaching out for the light switch to turn on the lights, only to find that they were already on, bathing the room in a warm orange glow.  "I'm early."

The words echoed solemnly in silence of the empty apartment, interrupted by the slap of his bare feet on wooden boards as he rolled off bed and walked towards the tiny kitchenette off the side of his living room.

_What was I doing last night?_

As he waited for the kettle, Q tapped a finger on his laptop to wake up the device, the bottom warm from being on for the entire night.

_Dear lord, was I hacking in my sleep?_

Switching between the dozens of programs open and running in his laptop, Q blinked, trying to remember exactly what he had ended up doing after storming out of Skyfall Lodge following being held at gunpoint.

Commander James Bond... _Face match...? Universal exports?_

Q blinked, not very sure of what he was looking at. His vision wasn't exactly a hundred percent, even worse in the morning as his biology struggled to catch up with his mind.

_Oh!_

He poured the boiling water into his spare mug and placed a cat topped mug cover over the rim as he waited for the tea to steep. Bit by bit, recollections of the night before was coming back to him. Using the bits and pieces of meager information James had given him and stolen footage from the cameras on the street outside Skyfall Lodge, he'd spent the night trying to find out who the man with the gun was. Apparently he'd gone to bed after leaving a sleeper programme to run over the _Universal Exports_ data base, only to have it fall short as his internet cut off, the full bars accompanied by a little yellow triangle with a small black exclamation mark.

He removed the tea ball from his cup and took a sip as he checked his phone for new messages. To his surprise, there was a missed call and a text message from a blocked number he didn't recognise.

What are you doing? -MH 

_Mycroft?_

Confused, he sent a quick message in reply.

What do you mean? -Q

To nobody's surprise, the reply came barely a minute after he'd tapped the send button.

Hacking MI6? You're lucky I noticed and interrupted your wireless. -MH 

You're lucky I fell asleep. -Q

Don't try again. Or at least do it discreetly. -MH

 _Well. This was an unexpected development._ Q locked his phone and moved to fix his internet access. _Universal exports is a cover for MI6._

It made sense. James had said that he was in the navy, then civil service, without a mention of his name being in the data base for a certain universal exports. The casual handling of the revolver by James with regards to his friend the night before showed familiarity, or at least, necessity, around firearms. Certainly, it would give a plausible explanation for the way James straightened his back a little bit whenever there was a sudden sound in the coffee shop, be it a crash of saucers or a sudden thump of feet.  


The man would be a close friend, to enter James' territory unannounced and to have a working knowledge of the bar layout. Possession of what looked to be a service pistol and a readiness to use it without hesitation on suspicious persons? A high clearance field agent. Possibly a double-0 agent.

Which would make the possibility of James being a double 0 agent in his previous life entirely plausible.

Q grinned at the thought. This was interesting. James and his checkered past was intriguing, and he liked the man.

_Sunday, then._

Q tucked his phone into his back pocket. He didn't want to appear too desperate, confronting the man and his trigger happy friend barely 7 hours after an encounter. Coffee could wait.

Besides, James and his friend would find it very difficult to put Q off once he'd set his mind to it, even if said friend possessed a license to kill. A light smile playing on his lips, he quickly tapped a message in reply.

Discretion will be noted. MI6 ought to secure their cover site a little more. -Q 

~

"James!"

"Piss off, Trevelyan. I'm working."

"But-"

"Look, Alec, if you're well enough to be walking, you can work." James frowned and shoved a bowl of chocolate fudge at Alec, pointing at a baking tray covered with quickly cooling chocolate cakes. "You can sit there and spread it on these."

"I'm a trained assassin with a license to kill and you ask me to assemble _cake_ for a coffee shop?"

"I am a retired naval commander recruited first hand and subsequently, very specifically trained in espionage and assassination and I _own_ said coffee shop." He replied, taking the bowl back as an afterthought. "On second thought, you're right. I think this might be slightly beyond your mental capability."

"Fine." he said, snatching the bowl from James and dragging a stool over to the corner of the counter he's effectively been banished to.

"Good." James replied, letting himself out of the counter and strode across the cafe to unlock the door and windows.

"I don't understand why do you even need to open."

"This is a business, not a hobby."

"You don't even need the money."

Ignoring Alec, James flipped the sign at the door, hooking a finger onto the bell and letting it ring through the cafe.

"What's with the kid?"

"What kid?"

"The one I, uh, scared off last night?"

"He's a regular. I like his company."

"You have me don't you?" Alec flicked a blob of brown icing at James.

"It's like having a six year old around." James replied, switching to a cheery smile as an attractive woman and her friend entered the coffee shop. "Morning."

* * *

 

**Sunday**

In retrospect, the week passed quickly. Business was a tad busier than usual, James couldn't help but notice the influx of young and older women alike carving their presence into Skyfall Lodge.

"It must be my influence." Alec said as he lounged about the counter and assembled sandwiches.

"I do agree."

"Let's go out, close up shop for a day. Won't hurt."

"What do you suggest we so?"

"The firing range?"

"I don't have clearance anymore, I should think."

"The pistol club, then. Not MI6. Let's take those beauties in your basement out for some use."

"...fine."

* * *

 

**Sunday**

Closer inspection revealed the small hand painted sign on the cafe door to read 'closed'.

The cafe was never closed. Strange. Pulling his hat down around his ears, Q turned his bike around and cycled back down the lane.

The science museum had a nice exhibition about mathematics and art going on that he'd been intending to attend. A significantly much better use of free time, in any case.

~

"Your aim is getting worse, James!"

"I'm out of practice."

The bullets tore through the cardboard easily, popping little round holes in a dense cluster on the torso of the paper target.

"In any case, you're losing your touch. These babies are a waste on you."

"Better than rusting at the bottom of a river."

"At least they'll have lived a short, but fulfilling life. Like Q used to say, there's no point in putting gunpowder in things if they’re not going to be given a chance to explode.”

"Q?”

Alec put down his gun and looked at James curiously. "Q... Major Boothroyd? Eccentric little man, white hair? The one who equipped you with those absurd gadgets like that invisible car?"

"Ah, sorry. That one." James pulled off his goggles and rested against the wall of the firing range, watching Alec aim and fire.

"How many Q's can you know?"

"One of my regulars goes by Q. It's his screen name. Certainly clever enough to be quartermaster, anyhow."

"Is it the kid you were waiting for?" Alec teased, aiming very specifically at the heart of the paper target.

"So what if it is?"

"He looks like he should barely be out of school. Boarding school, even."

"I assure you his educational qualifications far exceed yours, don't get jealous."

"I'm not _jealous_." Alec laughed, holding out a hand for James to press a second round of bullets into his palm. " _Jealous_. Pft."

Comfortable silence stretched between them, as Alec emptied the round into the target and James watched.

"But he is pretty," Alec commented, after a moment's thought, "admittedly."

Slipping his goggles back on, James took position next to Alec, feet back, spine straight, and took careful aim, wincing as the gunfire recoil pushed at old wounds on his arms.

"How's it going with Rosamund?"

"Who's Rosamund?"

"Do you think I won't notice? Please don't ruin my reputation by breaking the hearts of every young lady coming into my shop."

"They don't just come in to ogle at me alone!"

"Right."

"For a retired double o agent, you sure are slow on the uptake."

"I simply choose not to respond to approaches instead of full on embracing them."

"Fair enough."

~

 _I really ought to come here more_.

Stretching his hands, he took a rest on the plastic seats scattered in random corners around the museum. The mathematical art exhibition was as interesting as he had expected. Out of habit, he reached around to his bag and pulled out his smartphone, absentmindedly checking for new messages.

"Hey!"

Q looked up, startled, as a woman, bright eyed and petite, stepped in front of him. Dyed blonde hair, round eyes, small button nose and full lips, Q had the distinct feeling that he ought to recognise her from somewhere...

"Hello!" she said, grabbing Q's hand enthusiastically. "Fancy meeting you here! Do you remember me?”

"Hmm...? Shelly... Sorry?”

"Shelly Evans." her smile grew into a full grin as she sat down next to Q. "We were in the same class in uni?"

“Shelly Evans… Oh! It’s been a while.”Q returned her euphoria with similar exultance. "I'm just checking out the exhibitions. How’ve you been?"

"I'm one of the exhibitors here today.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the exhibits around them. “Some idiot spilt a drink around my stuff and I had to come down and fix it.”

"That's nice. Which one is it?”

“I can show you.”

"Sure." Q returned her smile and tucked his phone away, standing up to follow her.

~

"Coincidentally, I was just thinking of you the other day." Shelly said as they lined up behind the counter with plates of pastries and cakes, having spent a good hour on their feet discussing and viewing the exhibition. "One flat white please."

"A pot of earl grey for me, thank you." he opened his wallet and looked curiously at Shelly. "Really? Whatever for?"

"There’s a new project I’m working on that needs a bit of technical expertise. You’re studying computer science now, yes? I follow your blog.”

“Yes, I am. What do you need?” He said as they slid into a booth in a corner of the small canteen.

“I tried to, uhm, modify some old paint guns… it’s not working very well and it’ll be nice to have someone who actually knows what he’s doing to help. It’s really hard to explain, why don’t you come down to my studio and take a look?”

“Sure.” Q nodded his head and speared a corner off his carrot cake. The spiciness of nutmeg and cinnamon made for a gorgeous harmony in his mouth, but he couldn't help but wonder if James could do better. "I'm only available on weekends though."

"Fantastic."

* * *

 

**Monday**

"Coffee, here." James pushed the mug on the coffee table, before the hung over blond draped over his couch. "I'm downstairs if you need anything."

"Fu-yuck... James..."

"Not your housekeeper." James pulled Alec's shoes off and tossed them in a corner of the room. "That'll teach you to hang at a pub until 3am."

"Petty," Alex groaned, slurring his pronunciation. "s'a pretty."

"I have no idea what you are trying to tell me, nor interest. Call me if you need anything and I'll bring it up." without looking back, James left the flat and walked down to the coffee shop to open it for a new day.

* * *

 

**Thursday**

Four days later found James moodily breaking in a bottle of 1998 whisky as he waited for his pastries.

"Why the long face."

"You're joking."

"Really though. Is it about the kid from last week?"

"... No. I just felt like a scotch."

"You only get like this when you want to forget where you are. You stopped drinking since the cafe picked up. Speak up."

"You're pretty intuitive for an 8 year old in an old man's body, aren't you?"

"Shoot me."

"It's a tad empty without him around, that's all. We fell into a sort of rhythm for a while so I guess it doesn't feel right without him around."

"Just call him up, you have his number, don't you?"

"No. I don't."

"You're hopeless."

"You're very helpful too."

* * *

 

**Saturday**

Q thumbed his phone absentmindedly as his team mates worked around him.

The tablet dimmed in front of him and he swiped a finger over the screen to lighten it up again.

Somebody had left a paper cup of bland instant coffee and a lone Danish on his table. A sniff told him that he wouldn't enjoy the sad, dehydrated excuse for coffee, nor the excessively sweet and sticky glaze on the pastry.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of longing for freshly ground espresso and a certain blond barista handling it.

* * *

 

**Sunday**

"It's all your fault, I bet you scared him off."

"It's hardly within my control that the kid got spooked so easily!"

Sending a half hearted glare in Alec's direction, he looked down to serve a tiny 9 year old with a head of messy brown curls that made him think of a miniature Q.

"Can I have a scone please?"

"Sorry, see that man over there? He burnt all of them last night. How about a biscuit instead?" James said, bringing down a jar of butter and jam biscuits to the small child’s eye level.

~

There was a great, ear shattering bang, then a sharp squeak of wheels and an odd, wet sound as Q pulled his oblivious friend behind a plastic tarp, the transparency sprayed with a luminous neon pink a split second after they dodged under cover.

"I'm going to use my professional opinion and expertise as an engineering graduate to clarify that modifying a paint gun is probably illegal and also highly dangerous."

"I like how you put illegal before dangerous." Shelly laughed as she pulled her hair back, a few spots of neon pink dotted against her forehead and the tip of her fringe.

"Rules before fools." Glad that he'd at least thought far enough to wear something he wouldn't miss, Q wiped his hands on his ratty T shirt, leaving bright pink hand prints on the dark cloth. "Next time you try to modify any projectiles, call me before you do anything, alright? I quite like you with two working hands."

"Meh," she shrugged, standing up straight to stare at her smoking, sputtering machine. "Can we still use it?"

"I don't see why not, we might have to replace a few gears first." Q made his way to the machine and unplugged the contraption, starting to remove paint stained wires out of the way and made a careful prod at the nozzle, finger coming away slick with paint and oil. "Let's make that _a lot_."

* * *

 

 **Wednesday**.

Watching his best friend brood around, even if he tried to hide it, was a little depressing. He did feel a little guilty about robbing James of whatever joy he received from the company of the scrawny, geeky looking boy.

(He refused to think of him as Q until he'd met him first hand.)

As he walked away from M's office with a debrief for a mission for the following week, it occurred to him that a simple tech blog couldn't be that hard to hack for those of Q branch calibre.

As he opened the door, he could almost hear the whole of Q branch shift away with little squeaks, leaving a single dazed looking female technician directly in his line of sight, who blatantly turned her back to him as he made his way towards her.

"Hello." Alec lent over the back of her chair.

"006... Ah, what are you doing here?"

"My equipment?"

"Your equipment isn't to be collected until an hour to your departure, 006. Apologies."

"It was worth a shot, anyhow."

"Alright... 006..." the q branch technician shifted in her chair uncomfortably and tried to focus on her computer screen despite the off duty agent looming behind her.

"Can I ask for a favour?"

"Uhm... What is it?"

"This website, can you help me find out more about the owner? Discreetly, of course." winking, Alec picked up a ballpoint pen and scribbled an URL onto an empty envelope on her desk.

"I'll look into it for you." she curved her lips in a cold parody of a smile, and returned to her work.

"Get it done by Saturday? We could get dinner."

"Sorry, not interested."

"Really?"

"Please, you're making me uncomfortable, 006. I will sort out your business for you, please leave."

"Huh." Alec huffed.

* * *

 

 **Saturday**.

As James walked out to the front to turn the sign around and lock up the cafe for the day, he couldn't help but notice the black car that had pulled up directly outside the cafe, engine purring.

 _Waiting_.

Agent instincts taking over, he moved towards the counter and clipped the revolver and holster he kept hidden behind the bar onto his belt, for ease of drawing.

The ringing phone interrupted his careful stalking of the door.

"Skyfall Lodge. We're closed for business."

"Mr Bond."

Maintaining a careful hand on the handle of his pistol, James kept his eyes locked on the black car through the glass.

"Who is this?"

"No person of importance. Do conceal that gun a little, why don't you? Wouldn't do for the ordinary citizens to see."

"Who are you, answer the question."

"Do get in the car, Mr Bond. And please try not to shoot my driver, thank you." the line cut off, leaving James standing with the dial tone beeping in his hand.

Tugging the firearm from its holster, James checked his cartridge again and slipped a second one into his jacket pocket for good measure, before exiting the cafe and entering the waiting car.

~

The vehicle cruised through central London briefly before stopping outside a block of posh flats somewhere near Westminster. Without a single word exchanged between the two, James stepped out the moment the car pulled over, leaving him to stand alone in front of an ornate wooden door.

Pushing the door open gently, James found himself in the living room of an empty, yet rather posh looking house. Carpeted floor, an armchair and a couch directly facing it, a low lying coffee table between the seats, and on the armchair, fingers tapping out a muffled, steady beat on the fabric, a middle aged, balding man, cleanly shaved, in an expensive, well fitted suit.

"Do take a seat, Mr Bond. It's only polite."

Watching the man carefully, James let his jacket fall open enough for a glimpse of the holster under it.

“You would find that I am a difficult man to intimidate, if that is what you are looking to achieve.” The man said, “Commander James Bond, Her Majesty's royal navy, or are you more comfortable with being called 007 in this scenario?"

"How did you-?"

"I know everything about you." the man produced a thick manila folder from a side table by the chair, the MI6 logo embossed neatly on the front. "Every little detail. Oh, don't look so gloomy. I assure you everything is secured through the proper channels."

"Who _are_ you? What am I here for? If you want anything to do with MI6, apologies, I've been gone for 2 years. Whatever I know is probably outdated."

"If I have to arrange for a chauffeured car and a meeting with a retired assassin in order to obtain information on the interior workings of the SIS, I would be in a chair far less comfortable than this one, Mr Bond. I've simply called you over for a civil inquiry regarding your relationship with a certain young man you might know as Q, that’s all.”

"Q? What about him?"

"It has come to my attention that you and your friend, Mr Trevelyan, have been conducting an... Investigation. Of sorts."

"I have done no such thing. What are you to him?"

"Concerned individual. Please try to refrain from repeating the same question. There really is nothing particular we can talk on similar ground about. This is simply a word of caution about privacy and intimacy. Whatever you wish to know about Q, he will tell you at his own discretion.”

"I have always respected him."

"The exact definition of respect varies between cultures. I do advise, however, that using discretion in this case would be more appropriate. Milk and honey do little to cover the stench of blood and alcohol.”

"I was under the impression that Q was a working adult, not a seven year old."

"A wolf with dulled claws is still a wolf."  


"I'm just the owner of a coffee shop that people frequent. The type of people that come and go is hardly within my control."

"No." the man gave James an insincere smile, "yet you keep loaded firearms in your bar, a L9A1 semi-automatic on a belt holster under your coat -- don't bother removing it-- a 9mm clip in your pocket and a six inch dagger strapped under your left trouser leg. You aren't simply wary of trouble, Mr Bond. You expect it."

"I have enough of it."

"A distinguishing characteristic of trouble is that it arrives regardless of want or consideration. I trust you are aware of that better than anybody else.”

James watched the man as he clasped his palms together; elbows resting comfortably on the arm of his chair, his gaze drilled into Bond's without betraying a single trace of emotion save for carefully calculated intimidation.

"Kindly inform 006 for me, 007."

Eyes never wavering, James got up and held open a hand for the mysterious man to take. Ignoring the hand, he simply took his blinking phone out and ignored James altogether, leaving James with a vague sense of dismissal and silliness.

“I’ve left the name behind.” James said, determined, if any, to have the last word in. “Using the correct name to address a person; it’s only polite.”

“Good night, Mr. Bond.”

As expected, the sleek black car was waiting outside, the driver the same silent, emotionless man who replied James’ questions with the crunch of wet tires on asphalt as his vehicle weaved swiftly through the rain damp streets of London.


	3. Misalignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a date until somebody gets stabbed and a car gets stolen. Q returns after three weeks of absence, saving James from downright closing down to get rid of his embarrassment of a best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this one was fun, except ensuring continuity and editing.

 

**Sunday**

The gear finally came out after much frustrated prodding and lubricating on Q's part. Wiping the surrounding mechanism down with a dry cloth, he fitted a replacement gear into the gap, screwing it into position.

"It should work now."

"That's what you said last time."

"I am not speculating, like I was the previous time."

"I'll take your word for it." The young woman replied, activating the programme in the computer attached via a dirty black cable to the mechanism under Q's hands.

"I'm always right." Q said, smiling as the canvas in front of the mechanism filled with calculated splatters of yellow and pink paint. "See?"

* * *

 

**Thursday**

James sighed as he switched off the stove that Alec had left on for the umpteenth time. The pasta was dark, muddy brown, a centimetre of water at the bottom of the burnt noodles.  Exhaling, he poured the food into the sink, watching the yellow brown strands swirl in a steaming spiral upon the grey metal.

“Seems like a waste." a familiar voice sounded behind him.

"Alas, we do what we have to do." James found himself smiling, abandoning the saucepan in the sink as he turned around to face the owner of the voice. "I haven't seen you around for a while."

"Nope." Q said, "I've been busy. Nice to know Skyfall lodge hasn't burnt down in my absence."

"At the rate things are going, it might well be on its way." James pushed Q's mug under the espresso machine and pressed the lever, the hiss of steam like sweet music in Q's ears.

"Whatever makes you say that?"

"It's not my fault you still use gas stoves."

A tall, muscular figure moved into Q's peripheral vision, leaning by the counter beside him.

"Alec Trevelyan, nice to meet you. Sorry that we didn't hit off well the last time. Let's start off on a fresh page?" a white toothed grin plastered on his face, the man held out his hand for Q to take. Ignoring the hand, Q made a mental assessment of the man before him. Square hips against the counter top, strawberry blonde hair cut slightly longer than military regulation, barely reaching his eyebrows, hard green eyes that reminded him of a duck pond from his childhood and sharp features carved into coarse and barely tanned skin. His stance was relaxed and casual, indicating a certain degree of familiarity and comfort in the cafe despite the obvious security risk an exposed public space and glass walls presented.

"I'm James' boyfriend."

"Uhm." Q knit his eyebrows together in confusion and wariness; he hadn't been prepared for that. "Hello."

James turned to see Alec's arm drop back to his side and Q take out his phone.

"He's not, I assure you." he said as he put Q's brimming mug on the counter. "I'm not interested at all. Here."

"Thank you." Alec smiled without an ounce of sincerity and picked up the mug, taking a deep drink.

"Oi, that's mine!" Q glanced up from his phone and grabbed the handle of the cup, tugging it from Alec's grasp.

"It's not as if your name is on it."

"Actually," Q said as he turned the mug towards Alec such that the black Helvetica 'Q' faced the taller man. "It is."

"So you're Q?"

"Yes."

"Fishy."

"Alec!" James snapped his towel at the man, the cloth making a loud slap on his exposed forearm. "I'm sorry for having a friend like that, Q, I'll make you a new cup."

"It's fine." Q responded, taking a paper towel from the counter and very pointedly wiping the coffee stain around the rim of the mug, making sure that Alec was watching as he did, before taking a sip.

The first sensation that him was of bitterness and warmth where the frothy milk mixed with espresso. A little sugar and a hint of salt made the strong coffee taste stand out even more, rich and flavourful on his tongue.

"Mmm, much better than that Nescafe nonsense from the student lounge. This is the best. How much do I owe you?"

"The usual."

"Here. Thank you." Q counted out the coins and placed them in the counter.  “By the way, did I leave my mackintosh behind the previous time?”

“I put it in the backroom, I’ll get it for you?”

“I’ll collect it when I leave, it’s fine.” Mug in hand, he walked to his usual spot and settled in the chair.

Ignoring James irate glare, Alec took the seat opposite Q, peering at him behind his laptop.

"What do you need?" Q said, after five minutes of Alec’s eyes boring into him, without shifting his gaze from his laptop screen.

"Just a curious visitor."

"If I was looking for 'curious visitors', I wouldn't be seated here."

Alec took a moment to digest Q's words. True enough, the armchair Q was in was angled at such a way that he had a view of most of the cafe, the back of the chair high enough that it would be impossible to catch a view of Q's screen without looking extremely conspicuous.

"You don't seem to be very frazzled."

"Whatever would I be frazzled by?"

"Man with gun tries to strangle you and threatens you, yet you come back sauntering into the same company?"

"I wasn't the one who suggested 'fresh page', Mr Trevelyan. I like Skyfall Lodge. I like James. I like good coffee and handmade pastries. I don't like nosy friends with guns and no concept of personal space."

"Then maybe all you need is a little more getting-to-know-you with said friend to change that." Alec said, leaning forward, "Please, call me Alec."

"Are you offering to, Alec?" the constant clacking of keys stopped as Q took his attention off his computer screen, the edge of his lips curling up.

"Yes, maybe I am." The mild smile on Alec's face was slowly growing into a white toothed grin.

"I finish lab work at 5 on Saturday."

"I'll pick you up at 6."

"Alright." Q nodded, and looked back down at his laptop screen, the almost rhythmic clacking of keys sounding once more.

Alec remained in his seat, watching Q for a while until it became increasingly obvious that his company would no longer be entertained and got up, inviting himself behind the wooden countertop.

" _Yes_." Alec made a fist and winked at James. Wordless, he mouthed, ‘ _Score one for Trevelyan_.’

" _Fuck off_." James replied under his breath as he stood polishing glasses, the expression on his face looking as if he'd just downed a cup of sour milk.

* * *

**Saturday**

"So tell me, what does Q like?" Alec asked as he tucked his tie under his collar and knotted it skilfully. Near the front of the cafe, a small group of female customers were watching, not making any effort on their part to hide their glee as Alec flaunted his assets effortlessly.

"I don't care." James said as he banged his fountain pen on the counter, trying to get the ink to flow smoothly again.

"Don't be sore just because I got his number before you did even though I've only met him for 3 days."

"I have no idea what are you talking about."

"All I’m saying is that if the date goes badly, he'll be the one with the short end of the stick.”

Little blobs of viscous liquid soaked into the paper as the ink in James’ pen flowed smoothly again and he continued writing out the weeks inventory in a neat, blocky script.

"Mushroom allergy... doesn't like alcohol on its own but likes it in food, especially sweets. He's not sporty but he cycles. Nothing too dull or mild, I should think."

"That's it?"

"What else?"

"That's all? Oh my god, James, you are the most dense person I have ever met!”

"I like to think we both value our individual privacy, unlike a certain someone."

"Are you scared? James Bond, scared?"

"I'm not! I'm just… taking things in stride. Besides, you’ve never needed a person’s full life story before you went out with anyone.”

"Oh my god, James." Alec buried his head in his hands, marvelling at the absurdity of it all. "This is it. My best friend is gone, he's gone _domestic_."

"Comedy gold." James deadpanned before standing up from his seat to tend to a new customer, a young woman with hair the colour of maple leaves in September.

"God help us." Alec ran a finger through his hair, with little to no attempt at styling it. Checking his suit in the shop window again, he adjusted his tie before finally deciding to leave it altogether, pulling out the black silk completely.

James ran a hand over his stubble unconsciously as he waited for the milk to foam, ignoring his friend and the warped equivalent of a reverse striptease with a rather appreciative female audience in the corner.

"Is that your friend?" the woman at the counter asked as she waited for James to fill her coffee order for what looked to be her entire office. Her sentences slurred a little, pronunciation a tad too deliberate and pronounced; she might have been French, or Belgium.

"Unfortunate, I know."

"Going on a date?" she laughed, "I have friends like that too."

"Yes." James said over the sound of hissing steam, filling a collection of paper cups with varying amounts of dark espresso. "Though if he doesn't get moving soon I'm afraid he's going to be late for his date."

"James, can I borrow your sports car?" As if on cue, Alec’s voice rang loudly from across the café.

"Don't you have your own?"

"R-uh- Ariel locked me out after I failed to return her equipment from Bosnia."

"Fine." James rolled his eyes as he groped around his jeans pockets for the key to the Aston Martin parked two blocks away in a spare garage. "Not even the tiniest scratch, and a full gas tank, thank you."

"Laissez-moi t'embrasser." he leant over the counter and grabbed James' face, planting a loud kiss on his cheek before plucking the key from his grasp. "À bientôt!"

James shook his head and continued his work making coffee, the lady at the counter looking after Alec in mild bemusement. "That's cute. It looks like you won't be going anywhere tonight.”

"Seems you're not the only one to think so." James replied, moving a little more behind the bulk of his coffee machine, away from the line of sight of the group of women seated across the café, who had shifted their attention to James now that Alec had left.

"Good luck," she blinked prettily and smiled, chocolate brown eyes disappearing momentarily behind thick dark eyelashes.

"I know a nice little restaurant in the area. Could I interest you in dinner, Ms...?"

"Cornelia de Graaf. Everyone just calls me Connie.”

"I'm James. James Bond." he filled the cups with varying mixtures of foam, cream and hot water before capping them with white plastic covers. “What time would be good?”

"Well… I finish work at seven…”

"Where? This is a fair amount of coffee to send one person out to pick out."

"I lost a bet; I have to buy coffee for everyone. I work at a small industrial design firm a few blocks away."

"Would you like me to walk you over?" Delicately slotting the paper cups into folded holders inside several plastic bags, James offered to accompany her.

"No, no, I couldn't possibly interrupt your business like that. How much is it in total?"

"Thirteen cups... one Americano, four flat whites, two mochas, three lattes and three cappuccino, is that right?"

"Yes. Credit please." she removed two cards from her wallet and passed it to James, "You can keep the other one."

"This one? Thank you." James laughed, waving her credit card; the other card, a white, minimalistic name card pressed against the flesh of his palm. "Shall I pick you up at your office around... Say, seven thirty?"

"Of course."

Tearing off her receipt, James returned her card and handed her the bags, but not before first sneaking in a small jar containing a pudding of custard and jam.

"À plus tard!" he waved cheerily, holding the door open for her as she smiled back in response.

"See you!"

~

Q shrugged his parka over his clothes, followed by his sling bag containing all his equipment and work over his coat. Under the deep green parka, he wore a crisp white shirt with a sapphire blue tie and a black suit. He hadn't intended on dressing up for the date (was there any other way to call it?) but he had had a presentation with some number of visiting professors, and if anything else, Q was a professional, and presented himself as such.

He stood outside the university gates and fired a quick text to Alec.

_W_ _here are you? -Q_

_Turn around._ _-Alec_

Following the text, Q looked behind him, but there was nothing except groups of university students and professors alike leaving the campus. Lost, he turned back to the front.

A navy blue car was parked on the curb, its equally gorgeous driver leaning out of the open window on the passenger's side in a beautifully fitted pinstriped suit. "Q!"

"Subtle." Q's mouth quirked in a half smile as he walked towards Alec, admiring the vehicle as did. "Nice car."

"Thank you." Alec said; Q slid into the seat smoothly, pulling off his shoulder bag and dropping it in the back seat before fastening his seat belt. "Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere is fine."

"Dressed up for me?" The car pulled away from the curb, cruising smoothly along the road. "What do you like?"

"In your dreams. I had a presentation. I'll be alright with anything, as long as it doesn't have any kind of fungus. Surprise me."

"So, how was your day?"

"A bunch of professors and visitors from Hong Kong or something came so I had to present my team's project work."

"Oh? I’ve been there.”

"Really? What's it like?"

"Crowded, I suppose. I travel a lot for work. Do you?”

Q pulled a face, "I have aerophobia. The furthest I've been to is Berlin on the Eurostar."

"Fear of flying? How did that come about? You don't have to say anything if you're not comfortable with it.”

"It's fine, the fear only really sets in when I have to get on a plane itself. It's a silly thing, really. There're all those factors that could go wrong, engine failure, human error, pilot error... Which is ironic, considering that I have a degree in engineering.”

"Mm," Alec nodded, "Luckily for me, I’m too busy worrying about the destination than the flight itself.”

A small laugh escaped from Q; he lifted his hand to the dashboard of the vehicle to drum his fingertips on the panels. "So what do you do for a living? You obviously don't work in the café with James."

"Oh, I do, I do, and I’m just a terrible employee. In fact, the only employee." Alec grinned wolfishly, the green light of the traffic light casting an eerie glow on his face. "International trading company, I conduct liaisons between the domestic branch and overseas contacts.”

"Impressive, though a little backward if you ask me…”

“Why?”

“We do live in the golden age of fibre networks and Skype video conferences after all.”

“Well, they are a little old fashioned, I suppose.”

~

Alec was a sufficiently good driver in a nice car, Q gave him that much, when they pulled up in front of a smart, glass fronted restaurant. Green tinted sandblasting covered the glass, making it impossible to see its interiors save for shifting people shaped bursts of colour and cloud-like clusters of orange light.

Alec parked the car in a spot opposite the nameless restaurant and offered an arm to Q, who declined with a self conscious simper.

Side by side, they stepped into the restaurant.

**~**

When seven fifteen rolled by, James closed the cafe. Not counting on returning until the following morning, he put everything under security lockdown and left to amble down the road to the address on the tiny slip of paper tucked under his counter.

At seven thirty sharp, Connie exited the shop, her hair down and draped over her shoulders like a light brown waterfall. Looking up the road, she caught sight of a familiar figure strolling her way.

"Hello!"

"Good evening!" James waved, stopping before her as she gave a shy once over of his dark brown woollen coat and white button up. "You look nice."

"Thank you."

"The restaurant's a fifteen minute stroll, shall we walk?" he offered an arm to her, one she took with a light giggle.

**~**

Although initially hesitant about Q's ability to handle a more sophisticated and high end setting, Alec felt himself growing a little embarrassed and ashamed for thinking so, as he watched Q hold himself with no visible discomfort whatsoever, even if his choice of clothing indicated otherwise. His suit was a carefully tailored piece, with a timeless, classic design, but the cloth looked fairly well worn and at least a year old. His deep green parka stood out from the rich wool coats that many of the patrons in the restaurant sported, yet there was no insecurity or awkwardness in his movement and demure.

"Come to places like this often?"

"My parents have a fondness for junkets like such, albeit in a much more private setting, admittedly.”

"Sounds like quite the family."

"I'm painfully aware." Q reclined on the lounge seat, every bit of him save for the thick black frames on his face blending into the uptown restaurant. The light murmur of conversation flowed around them under the soft orange lights of the restaurant, not entirely unlike Skyfall Lodge. "Not bad for a first impression, as far as where first impressions count. Is this how you usually woo your targets?"

"Granted, this part comes immediately after the invitation, rather than the weekend after."

"And what comes after, hmm?" Q's tilted his head a little, looking like a curious woodland creature, even if the grin on his face indicated differently. "What are you expecting?"

"Not this." Alec said under his breath, the appreciative smile from before melting away into a guarded, sullen expression. His gaze passed over Q's shoulder, somewhere behind the attractive young man seated opposite him. "Uh, Q. We might have to cut this short a little. No, don't turn around, please."

"What's wrong?" Q asked, noting the slight stiffening of Alec's posture.

As Q looked at him quizzically, Alec considered his options. Sitting two tables away was a face he very unfortunately recognized. Sasha Ighnway, an assassin he had had several nasty encounters with and at the top of several wanted lists, both within Interpol and MI6. There had been next to zero reports of the man's activities for a year and a half, but he would in any case, be better dead than alive. Alec was quite sure that MI6 would prefer it that way as well. Whatever the man was doing in London, it was probably better not to find it out through an MI6 mission report. Even if it meant spoiling his chances (whatever they were) with the handsome young boffin seated before him, eliminating the threat four metres away from his position was an immediate, and necessary priority. His options were slim: he could dump Q and wait outside the restaurant until the platinum blonde man left, or he could ask for Q's cooperation and stay in the restaurant, stalking Sasha, although their extended stay might be cause for suspicion since they’d finished their meal. Either way, it would mean that he would not longer be able to maintain a civilian cover with Q.

However, Q hadn't spoken a word about the first incident to a soul. He could be trusted, or intimidated, if need be, to cooperate with him. It helped that he was clever, and he was certainly of some importance, if what James had said about the strange man in the suit was true.

Making up his mind quickly, Alec plucked his phone from his pocket and typed a quick message, sliding the device subtly across the cloth covered table.

Confused, Q made no movement to take the phone, reading the unsent message tapped out on the device.

_This might come as a shock, but I assure you this is true. I work for MI6. Look behind you, two tables to my left_ _, y_ _our right. Try to be subtle. Do you see the blonde man?_

Q coughed and his elbow bumped the silver fork on his right, the utensil falling to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. Immediately, a waiter moved to pick up the utensil and replace it with a new one, tilting his head slightly in response as Q murmured a word of thanks.

As the waiter left, Q picked up the phone and typed a single line in reply:

_Yes. I see him._

The man opposite him picked up the phone and wrote another message:

_He's called Sasha Ighnway, an internationally wanted assassin. Can I ask that you cooperate with me, at least until this meal is over, while I keep an eye on him?_

Alec gave a small shrug in apology as Q glanced up at him. He was half expecting Q to stomp out of the restaurant in rage, yet the reply was entirely unexpected.

_Isn’t it a little suspicious? We just finished our meal._

_There’s always dessert._

His eyes widened ever so slightly as he read and reread the message Q had tapped out.

_I'll do one better. My laptop is outside and I study computer science, remember?_

"What are you suggesting?" Alec said as he shifted his eyes from the screen to Q; the dark haired young man spared him a mischievous grin, before leaning across the table, eyes too bright and smile too wide.

"That we take this outside?"

"Are you sure?"

"The only question I am going to ask you is whether you trust me, Mr Trevelyan."

"I do, I do, but-"

"Then pay the bill and let me help you."

~

James' phone buzzed for the umpteenth time on the nightstand.

"Are you going to get that? He's been rather persistent."

"Sorry, love, I'm afraid so."

"Is it that friend of yours?" She smiled, pulling her side of the blanket over her body as James climbed out of the bed, not bothering to put on his pants.

"Spot on." James winked at her and put the phone up her his ear, walking into the small hallway and closing the bedroom door behind him. "Alec?"

"How long were you going to wait to pick up?"

"I was having dinner."

"Oh, ' _having dinner_ '. Don't give me that shit, it’s almost midnight. Anyway you need to help me with a clean up."

"Clean up? What the hell happened?"

"Q the shady fuck happened, that's what. Also, Sasha Ighnway is dead and apparently we just busted a huge and active assassination plot targeting MI6 that HQ says is their biggest priority now so I have to do the disposal myself, but that's a different story for another day. The point is that I need you to help me. Get your other car and drive here. ASAP."

"Wait, what?"

"Q, the little shit stole my, I mean, your car. Hell knows where he is now."

"I feel like this is a story that will take more than a single phone call for me to understand."

"Fuck."

"I'm not even at home, Alec. This'll take some time, I have to get my spare car. Where are you?"

"Marylebone."

"At this time? You’re ridiculous.”

"Ridiculous is if I find your Aston Martin in a ditch up Vauxhall with a dead body in the background that I will swear has nothing to do with me."

"... Right, Alec. I’m coming. Stay where you are."

~

**(3 hours earlier)**

Coat draped over his arm, Q grabbed Alec's hand, pulling him quickly across the street and down the street to the back of the Aston martin, where the boffin's laptop was locked into the boot.

The moment he got his laptop, Alec was already waiting in the driver's seat, the engine running.

"Waiting to drive off already, hmm?" Q said as he shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. One hand undid his top button and loosened the tie simultaneously in an elegant twist, while the other tapped out an even rhythm impatiently on the laptop as it started up. "Now, verification please."

"Verification?"

"MI6, universal exports... Anything. Proof. For all I know you could be just... Into role play or something… weird.”

"Why do I get the feeling that whatever you are going to do on that laptop is very illegal?"

"Answer the question."

"Who are you?"

"Wouldn't you love to know?" he smirked, turning the laptop to face Alec. The screen was split into four windows, each showing surveillance footage of a platinum blonde man in an elegant grey suit, dining with his female companion, from different angles. "I'm a hacker, one of the best in Europe, and certainly, the world. Trust me for now.”

Alec's eyes narrowed as he removed his MI6 identification card and passed it to Q. The dark haired man glanced at the card and the photo, holding it up to the light.

"Are you a double o agent then?"

"How do you know?"

"Simple logic. A field agent would call HQ. A double o would make the decision on the spot. I'm not stupid. Anyway, don't you have a man to stalk and incapacitate? Tell me more."

Alec shook his head in disbelief before driving the car into a smaller alleyway, about a two minute walk from their original spot.

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"My student ID? You can read my PhD  coursework if you like. I doubt you'd understand. I'm not a black hat hacker, trust me. I have never done anything that'll cause any permanent damage. Yet.”

Still suspicious, Alec conceded anyway. "No time. Do you think you can find out about their next location?"

"Uhmmm... Can you lip read?" Q zoomed one of the cameras in as far as he could without compromising quality, then made it smaller and shifted it to his right, where Alec could see the video feed more easily. Alec watched as Q took several screenshots of the woman's face and quickly constructed a digital trail of the two.

"Nice thing about London, lots of cameras around."

"You think so?" Q grinned and pulled up a Facebook and Google+ profile. "The woman... She looks like she's the vice head of a small private security company."

"Is it? What do they do?"

"Clientele includes... A few private banking firms... Some small number of important politicians homes... Etc. The target could be any of these… one of these works at Universal Exports too. Is she MI6?"

"Wait, which one?"

"An Olivia Mansfield?"

"Oh, bloody hell.”

"One of your own?"

"Classified. I think I need you to walk away from this one, Q." Alec picked up his phone to start dialling headquarters. If Q’s information was correct, then the very core of SIS was being targeted.

"No. You need me."

"This isn't an option, Q. I have people who can do the work you do.”

"False.” Q glowered. “You can't use your MI6 tech to get into their systems and look at what I'm looking at, simply because this is my code. This firm is using my work, which has, apparently, been stolen and very blatantly plagiarized. You need me. We can sit here and find out what they're planning, then you can follow them and I'll keep tabs on you from here and provide remote support. _Then_ I'll go."

Alec stared, open mouthed at Q. He smiled, then went back to his laptop. "They're almost done with their main course, and it looks like they're having dessert. Make up your mind and make it up quickly, please."

"This isn't a game, Q. This is real. I am going to go out there and kill a man, and what you're doing now is helping me. Leave your laptop, and walk away. Don't get any more involved."

"I agree. It is exceptionally dangerous. Therefore, I will be here to negate that danger." Q tilted his laptop cover down 45 degrees and turned to look at Alec with a raised brow. "You need me to work this laptop, and you've already trusted me enough not to spill a word of anything to anyone. And I would never.”

"Except your mysterious suited benefactor?” If it wasn’t such a critical time, Alec would have intended for this conversation to be conducted in an upscale hotel room with two champagne flutes and an empty bottle between them.

"Benefactor, what benefactor?"

"This isn't the time to argue."

"You're the one who brought it up!" Q said loudly, almost yelling.

"...Fine. I'll trust you for now. Don’t you dare leave this car.”

"Thank you. I won’t leave you until I’ve made sure you’re safe, so don’t you dare die on me either. Do you have an earpiece?"

"Bluetooth." Alec dug around his car compartments and pulled out a black wireless earpiece he used while driving.

"Keep it on. I _will_ support you, and don't you _dare_ skip out on me."

"..." Q was right. Anyone in the best position to support him now was the boy seated in front of him, and he had proven himself to be trustworthy and competent, to a small extent. The younger man looked like he knew what he was doing, and Alec's gut told him that this was not a fluke, as much as logic and agent instincts rebelled against that belief. His earpiece crackled to life as Q gave him another reassuring glance, holding up his phone where Alec’s number was accompanied by a blue ‘dialling…’ notification. The laptop was on his lap, the screen casting eerie white light against his features.

"Alright." Alec exited the car and started walking to the restaurant.

"His car is the silver white Cadillac outside the bookshop opposite the restaurant."

"Is the woman important?"

"They're moving now, he's paying the bill. I'll tap the card later."

"He looks like he's suggesting a nearby hotel."

"Probably hers. She's based in Cardiff, here on a day trip. I think you should pick them off before they get there."

"I see the Cadillac. Are there any blindspots on their path?”

"Tracking plate number... Yes. Alley, backtrack fifteen metres and keep to the wall. They've left the restaurant.”

"Do you have the CCTV?"

"Getting it."

Q heard the sounds of heeled feet on concrete approaching, in synchronization with the feed of a well dressed duo walking down the street. Nervousness gripped him, even if he was quite positive about the secret agent's combat skills, he kept his phone screen open to James' mobile number regardless.

A high pitched yelp and an angry sneer echoed through the connection, following a series of blows between the two and the tell tale glint of a knife on the CCTV playing on Q's screen. As he watched, he saw the woman drop to her knees, a dark stain growing across her light dress in grainy black and white, and the two assassins locked in combat.

Assuring himself that the man would be fine, Q worked actively to delete footage from every working CCTV camera and traffic camera in the vicinity, the faint sounds of choking and limbs skittering on concrete like morbid background music to his ears. He wasn't quite sure whose hands on the CCTV belonged to whom anymore.

Q opened the CCTV in the alleyway and watched as the body beneath the other's arms twitched and fell limp, his neck tilted at an odd, broken angle. For a moment, fear gripped him as the victor stood up and brushed down his suit—what if Alec had lost?—and scattered as he registered the face looking up at the security camera as Alec’s.

"I'm done."

"Brilliant." Q said before switching off the connection and climbing over to the driver's seat. By his estimates, Alec was a four minute run from the car, and probably forty minutes before he'd reach Skyfall Lodge. Even more so in order to dispose the bodies without help.

He couldn't stay there. There were too many coincidences, him being so conveniently with Alec when a wanted fugitive appeared, Alec trusting him too easily, the weapons concealed even during the dinner date... MI6 shot first and asked question after. For all he knew, Alec might have been using him, intending to kill him right there and then even if Q told him the truth.

It wasn't that he was too worried about death threats, he'd received worse (under a different alias, of course), both active and passive, but he was more worried about his extended family's reaction.

James and Alec would probably disappear and turn up, a pair of faceless corpses two continents over, a month later. He didn't want that.

Laptop still on, he watched as Alec stared at his mobile in disbelief, mouth opening and shutting almost comically as the blonde man yelled for Q, before he sighed, pressed down the laptop with a soft thud, and pulled away from the kerb. He wasn’t exactly breaking the promise, since he’d promised Alec that he wouldn’t leave the car until he had made sure the man was safe, Q thought to himself.

A small part of him sneered at the forced optimism.

~

As warm as his suit was supposed to be, Alec still felt the chill of late London weather settling into his bones. Peeved, befuddled and  feeling more than a little hoodwinked, he reacted quickly and verbally to the purr of a familiar engine as it drew closer to him.

"How long were you going to take? Christ!" he yelled, livid, as the driver came into view, only to do a double take as the headlights dimmed and the body of the car became visible.

“… Wait.” He was expecting some different, foreign car, not the exact navy blue Aston martin that he had picked up Q in.

"Are you getting in or not?" James leant out of rolled down window. "I found my car parked outside my cafe, along with your ‘little shit’ inside with his laptop, looking like the devil's after him. Care to provide an explanation?”


	4. Equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the events of the previous chapter, Q is forced to explain himself to two of Her Majesty's most parlous while armed with and shielded by nothing but gentleman's agreements and rapidly crumbling credence.

Of all things he was expecting when he drove up to the cafe, his navy blue Aston martin parked outside was definitely not on the list.

He got out of the car, silently cursing himself for leaving without a weapon. While he could comfort himself with the knowledge that the only person that could be in the car was Q, recent events brought distrust and what he feared was a gross underestimation of the young man's abilities created by a seemlingly harmless demeanor. 

"Q...?" he said softly, rapping gently on the car window. The young man sitting behind the wheel jerked up, the glow of his laptop casting strange shadows across his face. Even then, he looked like he'd seen a ghost as James motioned for him to roll the window down.

"James."

"Aren't you supposed to be with Alec?"

"We were, but... Things... Happened. I'm not so sure anymore."

"I can say the same for you."

"I know. I'm trying to fix things now."

"What do you mean?"

"I think Alec might want to kill me."

James barked a brief laugh, he couldn't stop himself. "You're thinking too much."

"No. Yes. Maybe." Q sighed, and James couldn't help but notice the dark rings under his eyes that seemed so much deeper and obvious now that he was closer.

"Alright, look, I'll protect you, Alec's not here to murder you, nobody is. Don't worry."

"It won't be the first time." Q muttered.

"I have to go pick up Alec." James said automatically, quietly contemplating Q’s words.

"I know."

They stared at each other in silence, until James reached over to the window and unlocked the doors. Soundlessly, he made his way to the other side of the car and let himself into the car, sitting beside Q in the passenger's seat. Taking out his phone, he sent Alec a text message telling him that he would be late, and a meeting time and place, before tucking it back into his coat.

A glance at Q's screen confirmed what he’d suspected it to be—MI6.

"What are you doing?"

"MI6's work."

"Meaning?"

"Long story."

"If anything being in the secret service has taught me, it's always better to know both sides of the story, no matter how long first."

"... Long and complicated and full of things I probably shouldn't tell you."

"Before you start, can I ask you something, something that you'll answer truthfully?"

"To the best of my ability."

"Dark haired man, mostly balding, a little stout in figure, impeccable black suit, mysterious black car and what feels like too much concern for you. Does that ring a bell?"

The description seemed to cause the stress reflected in Q's face to intensify, his right eye twitching a little. "I think I know who you might be referring to... How old?"

"Early to mid forties, maybe."

"... When you were in MI6, did you ever hear about the Diogenes club?"

"Rumours. Something about a group of shady influential politicians and the queen herself."

"Pretty much."

"Huh." James raised an eyebrow in suspicion, "I can't say I don't believe you but..."

"He's my oldest brother."

"Ah. Family."

"Sentiment. Never a strong point of mine."

“Is there a reason why you're still here, then?"

"I promised Alec I won't leave the car." Q shrugged.

"Why are you still on your laptop? Why did you leave?"

"When we were at a restaurant, Alec saw a man he recognized as an assassin. I offered to assist him remotely, but while I was finding out about his companion, I discovered that the security company that she headed was using bootlegged and plagiarized code from my website encryption. The developer took my work, dissected it and rebuilt it, probably hoping that I would never find out. That's how I got into their programme files—my own backdoors, and found their clientele included your M. When Alec went to get his target, I started getting into MI6 to find out if it was just one person, but their files revealed that four of these heads use private security in their homes in addition to government security. I'm trying to get into some of these other companies to find out if they’re all under threat as well.

I figured it'll be easier to talk to Alec on neutral ground... So I came here."

"Are they, then?"

"Are they what?"

"Threatened.”

"Yes. I sent them an alert for M's apartment and everything, generally doing their work for them. There’s nothing to it, if it was just them, they won’t be on time.”

"Here." James plucked a single key from a jangling keychain tucked in his pants and handed it to Q, "Let's make a deal. I trust you, and you probably do as well. You'll stay in my office, and remain there until I come back with Alec. Then you'll explain to both of us, and whatever needs to be done gets done."

"You won't murder me?"

"No!" Surprised that Q should think of them that way, James reacted a little more vocally than he might have. "Never!"

"Okay.”

"Come on, let's go upstairs."

~

 

As the door clicked close behind James, Q contemplated the possibilities of leaving and never returning to Skyfall Lodge ever again. He could easily pick open the door and disappear, if he asked, Mycroft would help him vanish, even if it did mean owing his older brother a favour. Q did know how to swallow his pride when the time called for it, despite what many of his colleagues thought.

He continued working anyway, tracking the source of his stolen code and opening contact points. Olivia Mansfield was the civilian name for M, head of MI6, and other targets included a Bill Tanner, head of staff, and Jaime Killian, their version of an IT chief.

A pretty damn incompetent one, in any case, if their personal security could be so easily covered by a piece of stolen tech. Opening all the points, he emailed a list of vulnerabilities and found assassination plans via Mycroft's official email to the MI6 office, satisfied as it pinged. Now that that was done, the older man would owe Q several favours for pointing responsibility for the outing of the threat to him.

Messages sent, he released the breathe he forgot he'd been holding and wandered into James' personal kitchen in search of a drink.

If he was going to spill his secrets to two of England's deadliest, he'd need something significantly stronger than caffeine alone.

~

"Trust him? How the hell can I possibly do that?"

"If anything else, take everything in stride and listen! Christ, how does the SIS make you do anything?" the car screeched to a halt as James stomped on the brake in a fit of exasperation. He hated being the middle man for anything, even back in MI6.

"... Calm the fuck down, mate."

"You're one to say." James sneered, an irritated scowl on his face as the car started moving again.

As much as Alec was used to picking fights with James, he sensed the seriousness of the situation and settled for fiddling with his phone throughout the remainder of the drive.

~

Q glanced up, a cup of earl grey mixed with some small amount of whisky he'd found in James' kitchen cabinet earlier by his hand, when the locks slide into place and the door opened.

"Q."

"... Alec." as much as Q had wanted to appear unshaken and confident, he was quite sure the pair of trained killers before him could hear the slight waver in his voice.

Saving the duo from further interaction, James stepped between them, walking straight to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of whisky and two glasses from the countertop.

"Before we start, I think we all need a drink." his words and the sound of liquid in glass permeated the silence of the room. With a tired huff, Alec sat down upon a stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island separating him and Q.

"What do you know about us?"

"After the first night, I went home and found out that Universal Exports is a MI6 cover. You're Alec Trevelyan, and you're Commandeer James Bond, retired. From the military background the two of you possess meant that you had to be, at some point, field agents. Add that to the layers of security encrypted around Alec’s file, the lack of personal information in a digital format, I simply assumed that you were higher ranking field agents requiring much secrecy; thus, double-0 agents.”

“Christ, you’re too clever for your own good.”

“It was only _obvious_.”

"Correct." James sighed, "I retired from the SIS three years ago. I was 007, and Alec is 006. You probably already know more about us than we would care for, so, our turn. Who are you?"

"Q." Taking another deep, heavy breath, hands out to ease the growing frustration on Alec’s face, he paused and rephrased his words. "My surname is Holmes, I can't tell you my full name even if I wanted to. I'm a student at ICL, currently in my second year of my PhD. I'm a freelance IT consultant, but I stopped commissioned programming from scratch last year.”

"Why? Why hide your identity?"

"I already told you that I can't tell you."

James just barely reacted quickly enough to catch hold of Alec. Under his hand, James could feel the other man’s muscles, hard and tense, poised to strike. A flare of anger radiated from Alec, quickly subsiding as James gave him a warning glare.

Meanwhile, Q barely flinched, eyes dead serious.

Giving in, Alec moved his hand away from the pocket where his knives were slotted. Please?"

Lips set in a grim line, Q simply shook his head and retreated to staring at the tea dregs at the bottom of his cup.

"I can't."

"Mr _Holmes_." Alec sneered, "Since you like hiding behind smoke and mirrors so much, is there anything you can do _at all_ to prove what you’ve told James and me?”

As if on cue, the house phone rang. The generic, rhythmic tone echoing ominously until James picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, or is morning more fitting?”

"... You!" James froze. He wouldn't mistake the voice on the other end of the line for the world.

"Mycroft." Q muttered under his breath, eyes dark. Straightening his spine, he shook his hair back from his face, as if preparing for a conversation with a person rather than a disembodied voice. "Put him on loud speaker, James."

"How was your evening?" The voice said smoothly, followed by a light chuckle as he continued. "I do hope the two of you are finished with terrorizing my youngest brother, 006, Commander Bond."

"Abso-bloody-lutely fantastic." Q continued. "Such an obnoxiously timely call, Mycroft."

"Simply a matter of being in the right place at the right time. And with any luck, the right people."

For a moment, Q's entire body stiffened, and James feared briefly that he had gone into some form of catatonic shock.

There was momentary silence at the other end of the line, and then the man spoke again. "006, the mission report that your superior will send you later today ought to be enough to clarify my younger brother’s position in this matter.”

Alec's posture relaxed slightly, although his expression remained guarded.

"Her majesty's crown congratulates the two of you on successfully foiling yet another attempt to throw its’ interior works out of equilibrium. I hope this settles it. Have a good night." the voice said somewhat cheerfully before disconnecting, leaving the three of them in stunned silence. James couldn’t help thinking that if the man, or Mycroft Holmes, as Q had called him, was standing before them in person, the smile on the face would be no different from that of the Cheshire cat.

"Ahhh... Fuck me." Q's face was in his hands, glasses pushed up against his forehead. "I think I know what's going on."

"What?" Both Alec and James looked to him, slightly confused.

"Alec, why did you pick that restaurant? Why specifically that one?"

"All the others were all booked out."

"Easy." Q murmured before speaking up again "Too easy. He drove you to make that decision by manipulating the others. It's reservation only, yes? So he would know who might have been there. The woman would have the one under the reservation, and the code is mine. The entire evening was bait for me to _so stupidly_ hack the security for him. _How_ in the world did I not see this?"

“Why couldn’t he just ask?”

“Because I wouldn’t agree if he did.”

Alec’s brow furrowed as he watched Q swearing under his breath, head in his hands. “This sounds extremely childish.”

“It is.” The reply came slightly muffled under the younger man’s hands. “It always is.”

Wordlessly, Alec reached out to rest his hand against the top of Q’s head in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. The three of them sat in silence as they each mused over their individual thoughts.

"I think," James said at last, "that we've all been played by your brother tonight.”

"You think?" Q reached for the bottle by the kitchen island and pouring himself a good measure of drink. "I _know_."

"Government types." Alec just dropped his head and plucked the bottle from Q's hand, drinking from its mouth directly. "I have to apologize for doubting you, Q."

"I'm at fault as well. For acting like a shady fuck and getting the two of you involved. I'm sorry."

“You did a good job tonight.” James stuck his hands in his pockets and rested his weight against the fridge.

"I don't think it's possible to begin anew at this stage, is it?" Alec asked.

A smile tugged at the edge of Q's lip as he shrugged. "Probably not."

“I doubt I can top the level of excitement that tonight achieved on our next outing.”

“I won’t have it any other way.”

James sighed for the umpteenth time since the duo had met.

~

"Hnnggh," Q opened his eyes with a throbbing headache and a strong urge to use the toilet. Moving his body, alarm gripped him as he felt a heavy weight on his body, and the feeling of unfamiliar sheets beneath him. "Hmm?"

He rubbed his head and glanced around him. The arm belonged to Alec, fast asleep on the pull out sofa bed in James' living room, Q next to him.

For a moment, he worried as to the events that had transpired the night before. How the hell did he end up in an unfamiliar bed with a shirtless, comely man and a terrible migraine beating away at the inside of his skull?

"Ohh." he blinked away the last of sleep clinging onto his eyelashes. Lots of things had happened the night before. There had been alcohol at some point. A lot of it. And he was quite sure he'd kissed somebody at some point, but then he couldn't really differentiate between drunken shenanigans and cloudy dreams. Either way, given his pants were still on, he imagined that nothing had happened.

Rolling the arm off him, he leant on his own, elbow braced against the soft pillows, to admire the sleeping man's face and physique. Eventually, he sat up and got off the sofa bed, pulling his hands over his head to stretch his sore back.

"Good morning." a voice sounded behind him, nearly making him jump.

"James." Q said, nearly falling over as a wave of nausea washed over him, yet nothing followed. “Oh dear—“

"Coffee. Best for hangovers." the blonde man smiled, holding out a steaming mug. "Alec drank enough to take down a herd of elephants, so I don't imagine he'll be waking up anytime soon.”

"Can I have the time?” Q asked after a press of his phone revealed that the batteries were dead.

"A quarter past eleven.”

"This happens a lot?"

"Hmm?”

"You taking care of him after he gets all wasted?"

"Basically. Back then he took care of me, until I cut the drinking habit and now I think he takes it upon himself to drink enough for the both of us.”

"Were you in MI6 at the same time as well?"

"I joined before he did. We were friends in the navy, then there were a few years of getting shot in foreign countries and getting wasted on foreign liqueur alone, then a few more of doing so with company, before I gave it up.”

"Oh. I see." Q said, not entirely sure how to respond. "Can I use your shower?"

"Feel free. Do you want clothes as well?"

"You make for a considerate lover, don't you?" Q smiled cockily, then walked towards the bathroom. "If you have any spare, please."

~

Q stepped out of the shower and found a clean set of clothing folded neatly by the door; a plain T-shirt and a pair of jogging trousers that looked a size too loose.

Q pulled on the shirt and looked at the trousers briefly before deciding that dirty underwear after a fresh shower was counterproductive. He walked out into the living room, patting down his wet hair to find James at the kitchen, the sizzling of hot oil crackling in the air, accompanied by the smell of fried eggs and browning toast. Alec was up, contrary to what James had said before, eyes half closed and hair sticking up in every direction, slumped over the counter with his little finger hooked on the handle of a steaming mug.

A small smugness settled in Q’s chest as he took in the sight; in a span of less than four days, Q had witnessed what was possibly every façade the man had. First the casual civilian followed by a dapper, delightful gentleman then the concerned, yet lethal secret agent, and now an unabashed man with a remarkable strawberry blonde bed head whose energy levels resembled Q’s every other Saturday morning.

"Thank you for having me."

"You're welcome." James said across the kitchen, while Alec just raised a hand in acknowledgement.

"Not opening the café today?”

"The benefits of having no employees are that you can essentially decide your own opening hours any day.”

"That is true." Q observed. "I _do_ have the day off... and heavens know I deserve one, considering how the previous night went. When do you think Alec would be awake?”

“In time for brunch, eventually. You do agree that a surprise cold water shower does wonders for hangovers, don’t you?”

“I like how you think.” The smirk on James’ face was matched only by Q’s incorrigible smile while Alec twitched in his reverie, still sound asleep and blisfully oblivious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ends chapter 4, one week earlier than expected. I need ideas for chapter 5 which I would be more than happy to get prompts and comments for, since I planned fluff but I'm stuck as to what it should be.


	5. Prescience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

A string of foreign syllables, some of which Q recognized as Russian for 'cow', echoed from the bathroom following the rush of water from a cold shower head.

Nearly bent over double in laughter, Q clutched at his stomach, the other hand holding onto James for support as a white toothed grin spread across the older man's face.

"Good afternoon," James snickered as Alec emerged from the shower, his muscles shiny with cold water and dark gold hair flattened on his forehead.

"What the fuck was that for! Bâtard! It's too fucking early!"

"Soddit." Q managed to keep his laughter under control to point across the room at Alec's work phone, abandoned and silent on the counter. "Your phone's been ringing since 11."

"You could have just used a simple alarm clock! Or that irritating pop song!" he said as he caught the towel James threw at him, walking across the room to pick up his phone.

"M wants you in by 2. It's ten minutes to one." James replied. "She's not exactly the happiest with you."

"Why the hell won't she be?"

"The hell would I know."

Q perched on the corner of the sofa bed, now folded into its seat form, legs crossed and twiddling his thumbs.

The casual, domestic sight was both frightfully adorable and odd. The young man with his nest of curly hair had established himself as a competent, almost dangerous force, untrusting as a result, yet here he was, laid back in the company of two trained killers like it was only the most natural thing in the world.

Alec wasn't sure what to think. The calm, smooth outlook that he presented reminded him of the frozen over surface of a lake he'd seen years ago. The only reason he would feel compelled to go to office that day, as well as James for waking him up, would be to unravel the enigma that enveloped the almost stranger sitting on the sofa, scrolling down his phone nonchalantly.

"What's my laptop doing here?" Alec's work laptop sat open on the kitchen, blank screen reflecting the room like a tinted mirror.

"I wanted to check something and mine's out of battery."

"And you let him?!" he turned to James in exasperation. "How did you even know the password?"

"It's really not that hard to guess." Q remarked as he tapped away, "Statistics show that over 70% of computer users use either '12345678', 'password', 'fuckyou' or some variation thereof. Obviously since this is MI6, you've probably been banned from any of the mentioned. Anything more than 10 digits would be difficult to remember if it was a randomly generated series of digits, and you would have changed it to suit your convenience anyway. Words are too easy to guess, so that's out, and so are phone numbers. What you need is a series that _looks_ like a random string of numbers, but is familiar and consistent, probably something James knows as well. Therefore, your password is the license number of James' car. However, that, again, is too obviously a plate number, so you've converted the numbers into letters. Therefore, your password is ‘LA EB JAQ’. Glaringly obvious."

Both men stared at the boffin with wide eyes and stunned silence.

"That was... Wow."

"If you put it that way... It does seem very obvious."

"Don't worry about changing it, it's a good password."

"Not so much now that you've picked it apart like a house of building blocks."

Q finally put down his phone, looking up to face Alec and James. "But a fairly well thought out house of building blocks."

"Dinner?"

"With pleasure."

James' eyebrows crinkled in confusion. The flirting the two exchanged was probably the strangest form he'd ever witnessed, unpredictable and utterly random.

"You're invited too, James." Q smiled as he hopped off his seat. "Might as well, if Alec's going to be trapped in an office until 5."

"Thank you." he said in response, unsure of what to say otherwise.

"I'm going to get dressed." Alec shrugged, and disappeared into James' room.

"Really?" Q's mouth quirked in the characteristic, self satisfied smile of his, as if he knew something nobody else did, as he tilted his head to look at James through his glass lenses.

"What?"

* * *

 

The trio pulled up at the building. Alec had put on another one of his suits, dark blue, almost black, tailored to a hair and probably dearer than Q's laptop, a fact which Q appreciated greatly as he watched the man climb out of the car and walk towards the building.

"I'll see you later."

He didn't turn to watch the car leave, walking purposefully towards the office, into the heart of the devil's den. A salute to the guard, a scan of his ID, followed by a biometric scan comprising both an iris scan and fingernail scan and a vulpine glance at the bored looking secretary before he was finally allowed access into M's office.

"She's waiting inside."

"006." the aged woman's glare speared right through him the moment he stepped inside. "Now where have you been?"

"I'm punctual."

"You know what I'm talking about."

~

It was only to be expected.

The strange, inevitable spark of attraction between two men who'd started off their relationship on physical attraction that had evolved into some degree of friendship trapped in a confined space to an uncertain destination.

"So..."

James found himself at a loss of words, even if they'd engaged in conversation on a regular basis. "Uhm."

"Where shall we go?"

"I was thinking, maybe I should upgrade the surveillance a little bit..."

"Okay. Sounds good."

"Any ideas? Should I get a computer?"

"Do you know how to use it?" Q quipped, a smirk dancing on his lips, "I thought you were more 'old school', hmm?"

"The cat's out of the bag now." James replied sheepishly, "I still don't have a proper computer."

"We'll get you a nice one. With a wireless surveillance for the cafe. It'll work better than that silly, wired thing you have now. How old is it?"

"Five years. In my defense, it was considered state of the art when it was installed, alright?"

"Turn of the century technology, astounding." Q smirked, "Let's play a game, then."

"Does it involve my hands off the wheel?"

"Heavens, no. What's the extent of your knowledge on modern technological terms?"

"Shallow."

"Ok. This will be fun."

* * *

 

"Terabyte."

"A brand of crisps?"

Q laughed cheerily as James locked the car, the lights beeping then fading.

"Way off, it's an unit of measure for storage space. Your turn."

"Bechamel."

“ I swear, you're making that up."

"Nope." James smirked. "It's-"

"Q? Q!" a stranger yell interrupted their conversation as a man waved enthusiastically at James' messy haired boffin from one of the shop exits.

"Afternoon, Tommy!" Q crossed the street, James right behind him, and practically barrelled the man over.

"Who's your mate, mate?"

"Tommy, this is James; James, this is Tommy." he scanned the man briefly; short, closely cropped hair, a slight beard, wrinkly eyes, cheap, comfortable clothes comprised of worn jeans and a shapeless hoodie over a T shirt from some company called "Portal Industries". He seemed harmless enough.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm James."

"Oh, so you're _that_ James."

"Which is that?" he leaned in interestingly. "Pray tell."

"Don't you know, Q, he-ow! Oi!"

"Shut up." Q smiled maliciously as Tommy winced in pain, hopping lightly on one foot. "Anyway we're here for actual business."

"Wonderful. Take a look around, what d'you need?"

James took a moment to stop and glance around the surprisingly cramped shop. Although everything was meticulously organized in compartments and shelves, the nature and sheer multitude of the items (wires, little plugs, green card like things, colourful boxes, mouse pads, to name a few) gave the place the impression of being messier and much more cramped than it really was.

Q turned to James from the counter and rattled off a sentence in some tech jargon, but the only part he really heard was "James, which type would you like?" and "Whatvs your budget?"

"A laptop would be okay. I guess." he responded accordingly, and Q just rolled his eyes and smiled. "I trust you. Do you take visa?"

"Okay." Q nodded and something shifted in his gaze, likening his demeanor to a child in a toy store who's just been given free reign by the parent.

"Should I be scared?"

"For your wallet, yes." Tommy said loudly across the shop, "And the absolutely _sick_ set up we are going to get you."

"Al-righty-o." James replied awkwardly, and Q laughed aloud at his discomfort.

James thought it sounded a little bit maniac.

* * *

 

Alec left M's office a little bit lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Q's history was generally speaking... Eventful. A freelance programmer during his undergraduate uni days two years ago, several of his programmes had been stolen and used by less than morally upright companies, leading to an international uproar that had resulted in Q's (classified) true name to be uploaded onto several wanted lists. The mess had been sorted out, and erased from the system, but as a result, Q stopped doing programme commissions. It was also around that time that Q started his web gizmo blog.

It was a surprisingly popular blog, Alec noted with some interest.

M was seething, something about "Mycroft bloody Holmes" and "nosy secret agents", as he heard from her secretary afterwards. Apparently foiling a workable assassination plan counted as a huge favour in the political circle hierarchy, and M hated owing political opponents anything, no matter how much or how little.

Alec could relate, a little bit.

"Ah, Trevelyan, there you are."

He snapped out of his thoughts, seeing a white coated figure walking down the corridor towards him.

"No." he said, a little more forcefully than intended, to head down the other way.

"It's just a medical check up!"

"There is nothing wrong with me!"

" _Routine_ check up!"

"Routine unnecessary!"

"Alec Trevelyan, you will come down to medical or so god help you."

"Not on your life." he replied, escaping into the stairwell.

Doctor Mike Stamford shrugged to himself, already pulling out his phone to dial a certain number. He'd already expected that much from the blond agent and he was already prepared.

The phone rang twice, and then a voice answered from the other end.

"Dr Watson speaking."                                                 

“Hi, John? It’s Mike…”

* * *

 

"Here, you might enjoy this."

Somewhere among the chaos, Tommy'd dug up a battered, well thumbed book which James had taken while Q and Tommy debated the schematics of certain brands over another, some tech jargon that James had paid no mind to.

The novel was small, nondescript and fairly interesting, and James was halfway through the final chapter when Q finally planted a sleek, silver thing on the counter that James was perched in front of.

"Here's your new baby."

"Hmm? Give me a moment."

"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." Q leant down, pressing his front down on the counter to look up and read the cover. "Oh, that is good stuff."

"I'm done." he said, fifteen minutes later, just as Q entered the shop with a small box. "Where did you go?"

"You looked so interested, I figured I'll go get us some food to tide you over the shock of seeing the bill."

"Yup, I think I can pay for the month's rent quite comfortably now, thanks." Tommy said from the storage room. "Q'll explain the set up, and I'll deliver the other stuff tomorrow."

"Yes, I'll do your job for you." Q replied, putting down the box. Inside were four small cakes arranged in a row: A small brown circle of cake with a heap of chestnut cream twice the size of the cake on top, icing sugar dusting the cream like snow on a mountain top; a golden tart with a toasted meringue topping; a slice cake with light yellow cream and glazed hazelnuts between generous cuts of fluffy green cake; a round, white thing with golden brown caramel drizzled on top and chocolate flakes arranged in a straight line across the cake.

"It's from this dear little cafe around the corner."

"These are gorgeous." James was stunned by the artistry of the sweets. "Holy shit, I almost dont want to eat that."

"They're quite pretty, here. Taste a bit of each." Q opened the small paper bag tied to the top of the box, taking out three plastic spoons. "I hope you're not too conscious about saliva and all."

"Hardly."

"Anyway, in order, they're-"

"Don't tell me." James cut a bit of the first sweet, looking at it at eye level, before putting it into his mouth, savouring the taste. "Hazelnut, chestnut, chocolate?"

"Hazelnut Mont Blanc."

"Passionfruit tart?" the tart split with a crunch as he cut into the pastry, the orange-pink curd in the tart spilling out.

"Mmhmm."

"Macha... Some kind of citrus... Grapefruit?"

"Yuzu."

"Strawberry... Cherry vanilla... Thing." the last sweet revealed a gooey blood red filling that coated the white cake, dripping off his spoon as he picked up his spoon.

"Yeah, about there." Q gave a small applause.

"How do you bear to come to my shop when you can get these here, I'd never know."

"No seats or WiFi."

"Good point. Free internet. That's bound to attract a crowd."

"And good coffee." Q grinned, teeth slightly stained with strawberry jam. His tongue ran over his teeth and lips a little, cleaning the jam from the white enamel.

James wondered what else Q could do with that tongue.

"Would you look at the time?" James pulled back his sleeve, searching for some form of distraction that didn't jump straight down into his pants.

"It's almost 5."

"Then again, even if we're late, he wouldn't care."

"Touche."

The two of them sat in silence, as the shop owner clicked away at something in the backroom, only the sound of whirring motors and plastic spoons on aluminium wrapped boards filling the shop.

A comfortable silence.

~

"I can't believe this. I can't believe _you_."

"What?"

"Dragging me out for some kind of guerrilla health check up? Ridiculous."

"Yeah, well, I need an occupational therapist, that's where you come in."

Sherlock gave his shorter companion a look of mock horror. "As a doctor I hope you realize my skill set is not something that works in a session or two."

"I know that, but this guy's just... Hard to deal with, alright? And what better remedy is there than to fight fire with fire?"

"Are you calling me hard to deal with?"

"Yes, I might be."

"I-"

"Look, there he is." A tall head topped with medium length golden hair bobbed in the crowd, walking away from them up the street. John grabbed his taller companion's forearm, weaving through the sea of people with some amount of difficulty.

"Oh, you're useless." Sherlock said, seizing John's arm and steering him off the road towards the side. "You'll never get to him at this rate. Come on."

He picked up pace, coat billowing behind him as he cut through the crowd with a determined, steely eyed glare at anyone in his way. "There we go."

The suited man's back was turned to them, the expensive silk reflecting an elegant midnight blue in the lighting. A hand went around the back, scratching the little bit of exposed skin between the white of his collar and his golden locks.

"Hello." John smiled as he put a firm hand on the man's shoulder.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Dr John Watson, I'm a friend of Mike's." plastering a (hopefully) friendly smile on his face, he beckoned to Sherlock. "This is my colleague, Dr Sherlock Holmes."

"What?" he looked a little surprised, glancing around suspiciously. "Is this some kind of hidden camera...? I've never seen you in my life."

"Mike asked me to make sure you get a check up done, if you'd kindly accommodate me?"

"You can't be serious."

"He's not going to listen to you, John. You'd be better off talking to a cow."

"Excuse me, uh, sir, doctor. I think you’ve got the wrong person." he said uncomfortably, placing a hand over John's to shake him off. When John refused to let go, he twisted his shoulder in an odd roll of his shoulders, causing John to release his hold, taking the opportunity to slip into the crowd.

John stared. Sherlock scoffed.

"Should have told me he was MI6 a tad earlier."

* * *

 

The restaurant was as busy and crowded as James had expected when he entered with Q in tow.

"Table for three, reservation under one James Bond?"

"Of course, sir. One of your company has already arrived." the waitress flashed a polite work smile and picked up a set of menus to walk them deeper into the establishment. While the restaurant Alec had brought him to was all sparkling surfaces and had a carefully tailored, subdued ambience, this one was packed with cheerful noise and bright splashes of colour. The tables were white, with blue and yellow placemats on the seats, and the chairs were sturdy industrial things, with an embroidered blue upholstery on the circular seats. Fairy lights and miniscule lanterns hung on the walls and ceiling gave the place a warm, orange glow, without deep shadows in any corner. Nearly every seat was filled, from an elderly couple near the entrance to a family of six dining cheerfully in a booth, a red faced baby adding to the noise with happy babbling.

The waiter brought them to a square table near the back of the establishment. Alec was seated comfortably on the chair, a glass of red wine in his hand as he gave a short wave.

"You took your time."

"Traffic." James said happily as he settled into the chair opposite Alec, leaving Q to take the seat between the two.

"How was your day?"

"Same old, I'll tell you later. How was yours?"

"I read a book and Q went shopping."

"Sounds... Atypical." Alec laughed, "And here we are having dinner. Did anyone ever tell you three’s a crowd?"

"There’s another saying; the more, the merrier." James grinned back wolfishly.

"Boys." Q murmured under his breathe and opened the menu to place his order while the two exchanged half hearted insults over the table.

The waitress took their order with a beaming order, returning within minutes with drinks for James and Q; A similar wine as Alec for James and a fizzy, colourful thing in a tall glass for Q.

"That's not even a _real_ drink." Alec quipped when she placed it before Q, "That's for children."

"Then maybe I'm a bigger child than you think." Q stuck out his tongue, tilting his head slightly. "At least I dont feel the need to exert my image as a traditionally dominant male adult through choice of drink."

Their food arrived within a half hour; modern British fare served on simple, clean plates with little to no care for extraneous, nitpicky plating, leaving the food to speak for itself. It looked delicious enough without the delicate, almost pretentious presentation that upscale restaurants seemed to prefer, and Q imagined it was.

At least, if he had the chance to taste it.

"Good evening, little brother."

Q looked up, regretting it immediately as he recognized the figure standing before him.

"Fancy meeting you here, Sherlock." Q said humourlessly.

The man's mouth curved in a thin crescent line, the smile not touching his icy green-blue eyes. Similar to Q, he had high, sharp cheekbones and a head of curly hair although his was more deliberately styled than he looked to admit.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Alec asked, sitting straight in his chair, as did James.

A low growl escaped Q's throat, as he waved a hand to the man's general direction. "Sherlock, my other brother."

"Have a seat, Mr Holmes." James said in defeat. His weekend was full of strange coincidences and at this point it was all he could do but to give in.

"Thank you, Mr Bond." Sherlock's smile widened, yet he made no move to take the seat. "Might I invite my companion to join us?"

"I'm not sure if there's space enough..."

"Oh, I'm sure that can be arranged."  Sherlock looked over his shoulder to talk to a befuddled waitress, before exiting the restaurant.

"What's happening?" Alec leant over the Q, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"My family." Q sighed, by way of explanation. "Nosy wankers, the lot of them. I really have no idea what they're doing here either."

"How do they know that we're here?"

"Coincidence?" James' eyebrows turned down in a wrinkled v-shape.

A low hum escaped Q's throat as he thought about it, eyes unfocused as they stared straight forward to where a waiter was directing a second table and a pair of chairs to be placed.

"He better _explain_ himself properly." Q shrugged, as Sherlock returned with a smaller, stockier blond man behind him.

"Uhm, good evening."

"I recognize you! You're that random guy on the street!" Alec said, surprise filling him.

"Actually, i-"

"Dr John Watson." Sherlock clamped a hand on his companion's shoulder. "Physician."

"How is this...?" Q's question trailed off into oblivion as Sherlock took the seat directly opposite him, making no move to remove his scarf or make himself comfortable at all.

"I don't fancy interrupting your date... Of sorts." ignoring the rest of the table, he directed his next sentence to Alec alone. "Dr Sherlock Holmes, pleased to meet you. Dr Watson and I will be taking over Dr Stamford's duties as your personal physician and therapist as of today."

"Wait, what?"

"Yes, this is un-routine, therefore, you will be expected to come to my office for a check up in the future."

" _Our_ office, Sherlock." John corrected, as he took the seat next to James. "I'm Dr John Watson. If you check your email, I believe Mike's already forwarded the necessary documents to you. Everything is in proper order."

"Why would you come all the way here for work?!" Q said, annoyance ringing his voice.

"Both of them, really?" Sherlock shook his head, "Do ensure that Mr Trevelyan here keeps his appointments, or it would be unfortunate for you if we have to repeat our next few meetings in this manner, hmm? He does have a less than stellar record when it comes to health checks, hence the irregularity."

James and Q both turned their glares to Alec, who gave a devil may care stare in return.

"Thank you, Sherlock." Q said, as pleasantly as he could. "I believe Alec here gets the message."

"Oh, it's not directed towards you." Sherlock shrugged, "John is the actual physician, I'm merely a messenger."

"Shut up, Sherlock!" The blond man exploded at last, putting his hands on the table a little more forcefully than he's probably intended to, the silverware rattling slightly. "Very sorry for the disruption. I am in charge of Alec Trevelyan's routine physical checks, given that the office and my colleague has completely given up on wasting resources to track this man down. Sherlock is merely along for the ride, I'm as surprised as you are. Here's my card, his appointment is for tomorrow, 10am." he pulled out a simple black and white card with a dark grey pattern on one side, and a clean, minimalistic typeface on the reverse.

"We can get to know each other at a different, uh, better time. Again, apologies for the disruption." John stood up, one hand already pulling at Sherlock's arm. "See you."

The other man rolled his eyes, following the smaller doctor's lead through the space and out into the crowd.

The trio stared after the two, dumbstruck.

"Your brothers are an eccentric bunch."

"I _hate_ them." Q stabbed his plate viciously. "Inconsiderate morons..."

"Now, now, this could be alleviated if a certain someone had cooperated with a certain doctor..."

"It's hardly my fault someone decided to send a bloody psychopath after me..."

"Sociopath." Q corrected quietly.

"What?"

"He would rather you call him a high functioning sociopath. He's not a psychopath. Do your research."

"Right..."

"Well Alec, either way, you are going for those damn appointments." James said cheerfully, slicing into his steak. "Best save us the trouble of having more food go cold. It's a right waste."

"James! You know what they're like! They're like vampires, out to prod and eat ever inch of you!" the man whined, the pitched sound reminding Q of a kicked puppy or a small child.

"Too bad, deal with it." James ate his meal calmly, ignoring Alec's protests, like a mother long accustomed to her child's red faced tantrums and whines.

Despite himself, Q found himself smiling in the duo’s company.

If James was the mother and Alec the child, where would that put him?

* * *

 

The evening ended with a courtesy peck on the cheek from James and a wine sweetened kiss with Alec. Q pulled himself out of the car, waved goodbye, and turned to walk into the building.

"Sherlock, get _out_." he said, as pleasantly as he could, still filled with a mild, dizzy high from the food and company, as his door swung open. "Here to ruin my night since you didn't wreck my evening?"

"Hardly." the man lying on his couch said mellowly, back turned

"Hmm, let me guess..." Q peeled off his coat and dropped his bag on the kitchenette counter. "Dr Watson kicked you out. For... Something to do with his medical equipment?"

"The centrifuge." Sherlock said again, after a long pause. "I cleaned it."

"Ah." Q said, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the details as he lifted a foot up to tug off his shoes. Besides, he was a hundred percent sure that that wasn't the main purpose of Sherlock's unannounced visit. "Cuppa?"

"Masala."

Q moved to the small kitchenette and pulled out a small saucepan. From his bare fridge, he poured half a litre of milk into the pan followed by an equal amount of tap water before leaving it to heat on his induction stove.

"So what did Mycroft make you do yesterday?"

"You talk as if you have no idea." Q scooped a teaspoon of a spice mix and two of black tea into the mixture heating away on his stove.

"Not in detail. First hand accounts are much more satisfying then deductions."

"Yeah, well, no thank you."

"Talk about your boyfriends then. Both of them? Was it the sentiment that Mycroft used? I did warn you."

"Fuck off."

"MI6 and double o agent, you really are adventurous, aren't you? Did you deduce it before, or did you overlook the detail? Hardly your fault, you're a child. Do you know what you're doing?"

"No, no, no, yes. And for god's sake, I'm not snogging either of them. Friends go out for dinner too, Sherlock."

"Certainly doesn't feel like it."

"Speaking of which, aren't you the one writing his diagnosis tomorrow?"

"Shall I falsify the results, since the moment his superior receives the pass, he'ld be thrown out into the battle field once more?"

"Falsification is hardly a professional ethic."

"Did you honestly come all the way to my apartment to, I have no other way to put this, _bitch_?" Q turned from the stove, glaring resolutely at his older brother.

"I have been told that expressing verbal distaste of one person to another brings about some amount of relief emotionally."

"Aren't you supposed to be the counselor?"

"I am a psychologist, not an occupational therapist, unlike what the general public might like to believe." Sherlock prodded at his phone again, "Narrow little minds they are."

"I hope Dr Watson changes the lock when you're out." Q said buoyantly as he strained the honey brown mixture into a mug and a thermos.

"It won't take more than a minute pick the lock, besides."

"Not if he asks me."

"Please, baby brother, I'm in your house."

"That's because I programmed in your biometric signature, else you'd be in the A&E at this given moment.”

A small hum of acknowledgement rang from Sherlock's throat as he sat up to the sound of Q making his way across the room, just in time to receive the mug of milky tea spiced with a variety of Indian spices. He put the tray down on a stack of yellowed books, sipping on his tea as he waited for his laptop to start up.

"Bored." Sherlock complained.

"Bring your own entertainment." Q replied, attention still focused on his laptop. "Or go home."

"That's inconvenient. Waste of time." he rolled over and tugged at a magazine under the biscuit tray.

Q sighed through his nose, reaching over to pick up a tablet buried somewhere under a miniature tower of pocket folders. A few taps, and he had a pdf file open on the tablet computer.

"Biomedical freshman working on their thesis. You might be interested in selected sections of this paper."

Sherlock took the computer and relaxed into a more comfortable position on Q's small couch. "Should I take note of how you obtained this?"

"Do you care?"

"Not at all."

"Then good night." Q shrugged, shut down his computer and went into his tiny bathroom.

 

As he'd anticipated, the couch was empty when he walked sleepily out of his bedroom the following morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normal posting resumes in a fortnight. I might have missed a few/lot of errors, so please do tell me. This chapter is actually much longer, but I cut it up, so the next one will be a bit short. Also, I've got more plot bunnies I've been intending to catch, so if anyone wants to talk about stories and cry about fictional characters/Ben Whishaw's face with me...


	6. Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alec threatens to -for the love of god-shoot the man and John encourages him to do so. Q starts studying for his exams and James deals with the return of his ex colleague's nonsense.

"I thought that, as a general pattern, the physical comes first."

"I felt that you might enjoy having something to look forward to."

"And how are you certain as to what my interests might be?"

"It doesn't take a lot to guess, Mr Trevelyan. I have access to your files and reports. It is sufficient."

The two men stared firmly at one another. One a cool, professional gaze, the other a forceful, resolute glare.

"Dr Holmes. Please, call me Alec."

"Alec." Sherlock said, the name rolling off his tongue crisply. "We both know what we're here for."

"So shall we get straight to the point?" Alec said, face straight. "We both have people waiting for us, don't we?"

On the ground floor, James and John had a cheery debate about the merits of coffee over tea while Mrs Hudson looked on, adding her own little opinions accompanied by a refill of fresh biscuits.

Sherlock's blue-grey eyes vanished momentarily under his dark eyelashes as he looked down, holding up a thin manila folder and turning the written pages slowly and deliberately. "Where to start? Personal life?"

"I am in a romantic relationship, if that-"

"Is _obvious_." Sherlock said the word with an almost disdain, not unlike a child picking up a dirty rag. "Filled with all the simplistic concerns that ordinary people have. Security, sexual gratification, depth of emotion. You are not in a romantic relationship.”

"I've only known him for a week!"

"Hm." Sherlock's thin eyebrows curved in an elegant arch as he gave Alec a look. "You've taken greater women for less."

"This is _different_." Alec growled, standing up in anger. "Are you my shrink or a fucking relationship counsellor?"

“Psychological professional, not a clinical therapist." Sherlock shook his head as he scribbled a note in a lined notebook. With a flourish, he signed off on the bottom before ripping out the paper and filing it into the folder. "You are dismissed; Dr Watson will inform you for our next session, Mr Trevelyan."

Alec stared at the long, thin man with his grey eyes and cool demeanour and contemplated if the satisfaction of delivering a punch to the man's face was worth the active duty suspension.

"Goodbye."

Alec slammed the door and traipsed loudly down the stairs.

* * *

 

December rolled by as Q put his foot down and started to prepare for his exams despite having two months to go, Alec finding himself thrown into an emotional backseat as Q devoted himself almost religiously to his books and his papers.

Skyfall Lodge remained its own coffee scented bubble, with James in the centre. As prone to the holiday spirit as anyone else, James had taken to setting up a small Christmas tree on a corner of the counter, and draped thin strands of tinsel around the counter and the walls.

"He seems to have a good influence on you." James remarked as he took a photo of the sight in front of him: Alec Trevelyan, seated before a laptop and typing his (overdue) mission reports.

"Yeah, well, it's not like there's anything else to do."

"Except what they pay you for." he replied with a satisfied smirk, sending Eve and Tanner the picture.

 Q had claimed half of the dining table in the middle of the cafe, earphones plugged tightly into his ears and eyes focused on nothing but the script in front of him as he worked meticulously on his research.

At 2pm, James decided enough was enough and switched off his internet router (to several loud groans from his customers), placing a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage before Q.

"Did the WiFi break?" Q looked up at him bleary eyed and visibly irritated. He raised his mug up, shoving it at James. “I’m sleepy. I think your coffee bean broke.”

"No. Take a break." He’d replaced Q’s cup with decaf after his third cup, after noticing the alarming speed at which Q drained the cup.

"You don’t have to switch it off. I can eat while working." the young man stood up, chair dragging against the floor. “Come on, I need it.”

"Really?" James brow furrowed as he gave Q a questionable glance, moving to block him with his own body. "Do you?"

"Huh." he shook his head and accepted the plate, sitting back down and picked up the utensils on the side of the plate. James pulled up another chair, sitting next to Q and drinking his own tea as he watched Q pile forkfuls of golden eggs onto bits of cut sausage, shovelling the food into his mouth.

"Eat slowly, you're not five years old."

"'osn't maf'er. Ud."

"Whatever floats your boat."

Q swallowed and handed the messily cleared plate back. "Wi-Fi."

Shaking his head, James picked up the plate and made his way back to the counter.

If Alec noticed the way James looked at Q, he didn't say a word.

* * *

 

When the call came, neither Q nor James were sure if the sigh they gave was one of relief or worry. For one thing, Alec was restless, even though Q’s positive influence meant he’d finished each and every piece of his paper work to his name to near surgical precision.

"It's a priority black."

The colour drained from James' face, a look that ill suited the man and his normally unfazed demeanour.

"What? What does that mean?" Q asked worriedly as the two of the toughest men he knew exchanged painful glances.

"It means Alec doesn't get back up."

"What do you mean no back up? That's ridiculous. That's unethical."

"It means no back up." Alec snapped, walking to the door to throw it open. “I knew it. Shouldn’t have said this in front of you. Out.”

"No, I forbid you from this." Q said, louder than Alec had expected. "Don't you DARE for one minute think that I will let you—“

"James." Alec turned a pleading look to his friend whose expression had yet to waver from the cold and the serious.

"I'm on this side of the counter and here I will stand." James replied, averting his gaze. Torn between his experience from being an active agent and his understanding of the finality and mortality of the job, and his personal feelings about Alec as a close friend, he could say nothing.

"I can get you out, look." Q pulled out his phone and started typing in a number that he memorised, but never touched, and never though he would. A quick hand reached out and tugged the phone from his grasp, leading to the device slamming with a heavy crack against the wood panels of the floor.

"I didn't mean to-"

Wordlessly, Q crossed his arms and glared at the man in frustration, clenching and unclenching his fists in silent anger. "Facts. Now.”

"I'm the only one with clear knowledge of the place. I can't exactly relay it to someone else, it doesn't work that way. We have resources to bring me in, do the job, but that’s it. It’s too sensitive. No waiting car, no agent to come to my rescue, no voice in my ear. I have to fly blind, or risk the entire operation going down. I know what I’m getting into, Q."

"Fine." Q said, standing up to leave the apartment. The sudden switch from aggressive to passive scared Alec and James equally.

"Thank you."

"I'll be your back up."


	7. This Tension Amounts to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Top secret government missions happen very quickly, actually.

To say that it was a suicide mission was a vast understatement.

Three doors, eight prominent industrialists, all with their personal platoon of guards, and finally one man with too intimate a knowledge of weaponry and arms that the United Kingdom and her allies were not supposed to have.

One way in, no way out.

"How are the kids, Casper?" James' fluent Russian came through the small earpiece that Alec wore as part of his bodyguard cover. Nothing on the man led back to England, even the gun he carried was standard issue from the executive protection corporation he supposedly worked for. Once the target was dead, the chances of him joining the man's demise were unequivocal; an intricate and complex paper trail was already drawn out and laid by Q branch back in MI6, weaving a highly convincing fiction detailing Alec’s cover identity's unfortunate grudge against the informant to satisfy the forensics investigators who would follow.

"The four of them are clingy. Following their mama around everywhere, there's always somebody tugging at her skirt. The rest are the same."

"That's cute." Placing a hand over the microphone, he translated the message for the young mannext to him, in front of two laptops and a mess of wires. "Four guards on rotation for every figure."

"The wife's mother is coming up. Any ideas on what to get her?"

"Old folks, they just dont move around much anymore. She might like the cigars you purchased from home the last time. The stronger ones."

_Tobacco poisoning_. James wrote on the paper in front of him.

"I need to find an occasion to give it to her."

_Not close enough_ _._

Q brought out a dossier of classified files and documents, each page and detail covered with details and annotations which James and he had spent the past 3 days deducing and collecting from the information Alec relayed to them onsite.

James thumbed through half the stack and picked out three very specific pieces of paper.

"I have an idea."

* * *

A man walks in to four men in a stairwell, the raw concrete space filled with the dry scent of spent cigarettes and the floor littered with old and new tobacco.

It looks like a bizarre, horribly timed freak accident. High traffic and the large amount of spent cigarettes make it near impossible for the Russian police's forensic department and the private agency that follows from investigating any further.

There are no suspects.

* * *

“Good job, 006”

“Thank you, 007.”

"You're welcome." James replied, "Where are you now?"

"On my way to Moscow."

"The flight tickets are in your email. You're on your own from now. Q can't hack every single CCTV for you."

"Moscow's fine." Alec's voice sounded oddly machine-like across the connection, too low and missing the smooth baritone it should have. "I'll see you two in two days."

The connection broke off, leaving the droning dial tone to echo in the quiet of James' apartment.

The hacker and the secret agent faded to being a post graduate student and a coffee shop owner again. Excitement and Hollywood like exploits over, James stood up and started to shuffle the papers and documents littering the table into a cardboard box to dispose of later, while Q started the process of burying his digital footprints.

Computer work done, Q flipped open his laptop and removed the hard drive, tossing it into the box filled to the brim with documents, all without moving from his seat.

"That was an experience." Q’ broke the silence."I don't think I would care much to repeat it again."

"I agree." James nodded in response. "I don't quite fancy making this thing a habit either."

“Do you want some help with that?”

“It’s fine.” He lifted the box and started towards the door. “If you need me, I’ll either be in the basement or prepping for tomorrow.”

"Ok."

“Bring the key down if you’re coming downstairs later.”

“I will.”

He remained in his seat as the door closed, listening intently for the sound of the heavier man’s footsteps on the stairs to fade away. Once he was sure that the other man wouldn’t return, Q stood up and checked the door, sliding the lock in place.

That done, Q hastily made his way into the bathroom.

White tub, dark blue tiles, a wave of embarrassment washed over him as he leant on the sliding door and finally paid attention to the growing ache in his pyjama pants he’d been desperately trying to ignore since James had bade farewell to Alec.

_This was a terrible,_ terrible _habit._ Despite the lack of any chance of public shame whatsoever, Q felt his cheeks burning and he could only imagine the terrifying shade of pink his face was.

He couldn't exactly _help_ it. It wasn't his fault if the rush and adrenaline and general excitement following a job well done materialised itself in a, uh, physical sense. He wasn't being paid for it, so some… gratification was, in some strange universal balance, justified?

(of course, being in the company of two very attractive didn't help anything. If anything else it just made him feel more guilty that this wasn't the first time.)

_Oh for god’s sake, you’re not a twelve year old schoolboy!_ Biting down on his lip, Q removed his pants and tossed them to the side.

Eyes closed, he found warm, firm fingers on his body, and imagined somebody else’s chest against his, heaving andpanting against him. Somebody else’s touch, somebody else's hands, andblonde hair tickling his neck as they pressed hard and fast against him, fingers working to bring that little bubble of heat out to climax and pleasure.

Q shuddered into his palm, warm and sticky, saw a pair of sky blue eyes, pupils wide and blown. A blink, and they were replaced bythe view of dark blue tiles covering empty bathroom walls again.

~~~

Downstairs, the sweet scent of butter and vanilla filled the empty cafe, as James prepared trays of biscuits and pastry to be loaded and baked early the following day. A piece of broken chocolate biscotti in his hand, he glanced up at the sound of Q making his way down.

"Is there anything to eat?" he asked, tabletcomputer in one hand, phone in the other.

"Biscotti." James waved the biscuit vaguely, "And tea, because I'm cleaning the machine."

"Don't you clean it everyday?"

"I change the _filters_ every day." James replied tiredly, already pouring boiled water into a porcelain teapot. "Earl Grey fine?"

"Earl Grey would be great." he took a piece of broken biscuit and bit into it. Crumbly and brittle, bits of the biscuit fell onto the pristine counter top. "These aren't very good."

"It’s a new recipe. Mixed the batter last night; probably forgot something in the process.”

"It's not a very good recipe." Q made a face. "I could makebetter."

"I don't believe you've even touched an oven in your life."

"It's just food chemistry. I can do chemistry." Q slid a finger across his tablet and started searching for biscuit recipes. “It says so right here. ‘ Get this all-star, easy-to-follow Chocolate Biscotti recipe—”

"Q, I genuinely think that baking is very different from whatever mixing chemicals you have in mind."

"Do you trust me?" Q raised a delicate eyebrow.

James looked at the skinny young man in his oversized sweater and baggy pyjama pants. "You're just putting me on a spot now.”

"You trust me." Q smiled, lips curled in a determined (and a little malevolent, from James' perspective) curve. "Now where're the leftover ingredients?"

"Uh..." James looked to the side nervously, just as Q's mobile started vibrating on the counter. "I think somebody's calling you."

"What?" Q glanced down, eyebrows raised a little as he recognized the caller ID. "Oh shit."

"Who is it?"

"Uhm," he picked up the phone and retreated hastily to the opposite end of the cafe space. A few frantic words exchanged with the caller, and Q was walking back to the counter with an odd expression that looked to be somewhere between chagrin and apprehension.

"James," Q was all serious, one hand sweeping his hair from his eyes. "Are you free later?"

"Yes... Why?"

"Do you have any strong feelings against contemporary art?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really must apologise for the long, unannounced hiatus that this fic was on. A lot of things have happened, big and small, and they all just snowballed together to stop the rest of this story from forming itself into coherent arrangements of letters and symbols.
> 
> In any case, I would like to thank and apologise to anyone who is still following this fic. Posting is likely to be irregular, but I do intend to see this story through to the end. When that end will be, however, is anyone's guess...


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